


But is there something more than that?

by Anonymous



Series: A Realization (is as good as it gets) [1]
Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "You close yourself off and remain at a distance just to save yourself from getting attached because God forbid you give in, God forbid you be weak and human or depend on anyone around you for one second because that's not allowed. Then you look up one day halfway through your life with no one around you and no passion to show for it.The journeyman.Traveled and experienced but with no home and no one to love."Ryan Fitzpatrick has been going it alone his entire career, but when fate brings Tua into his life, he's forced to face some important things about himself that he's been ignoring for a long time.
Relationships: Tua Tagovailoa/Ryan Fitzpatrick
Series: A Realization (is as good as it gets) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136381
Comments: 18
Kudos: 14
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, 
> 
> This is my first time writing for an IRL ship, and let me just say that I am nervous as hell. I've been both a Dolphins fan and an Alabama fan for quite some time now, so when the Dolphins drafted Tua, I was ecstatic. And while I was watching them play this past year, this ship just would not leave me alone, so I wrote about it. It was meant to be a cute little drabble, but over the last few months, it kind of exploded into a pretty long and in-depth story chock full of feels. 
> 
> Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this, and hopefully, you enjoy reading it.
> 
> This work has not been beta read, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and is in no way indicative of how these people act or behave in real life. The characters at work here are merely based on the personas or real people that I personally have gleaned from what little I know about them and what they choose to present to the public eye.

They said that football was king. That it ruled over the minds and lives of fans and players alike. That short of world war it was inevitable, and all of that seemed to be true because they sure as hell weren't letting a global pandemic stop them. While the whole country was wallowing in the depths of despair from the privacy of their own homes, football seemed to weasel its way through like weeds bursting through the crack in a sidewalk. Ensuring that even from the comforts of their homes, they would have their bread and circuses. 

Sure, it wasn't as flashy and pompous as they’d probably like it to be, with the bright lights of a city, the grandiose stage, and kids lined up in suits desperate to hear what years of hard work and sacrifice had won them, but it was happening non the less. Like the tolling of a bell on the hour the draft chime sounded signaling fate, and from the basement of one of his many luxurious houses, Commissioner Roger Goodell, not so fondly referred to as the Ginger Hammer by those savvy in the league, approached the cameras smiling, cardstock in hand. 

“With the fifth pick in the 2020 draft, the Miami Dolphins select Tua Tagovailoa, Quarterback, Alabama.” 

From his own lonely house, Ryan Fitzpatrick gave a dry chuckle before taking a swig of his second beer. After all that they’d still gotten their man. Sure, it had taken some less than ideal circumstances, namely eleven tough losses, a broken hip, and Goodell had butchered the hell out of his name, but they’d gotten their man.

The cameras cut to the family's home. The father sat stalwart and stoic on the right, the mother with a beaming smile on the left, the kid in the middle. Smiling, he stood and opened his suit jacket, the inside fabric emblazoned with pictures of his college teammates. Ryan finished off the rest of his beer and hit the mute button.

Though the media had speculated all season and even afterward, there had been no doubt in Ryan’s mind that this was the outcome that would inevitably happen. It was no secret amongst the team that the front office was in love with the kid, were practically salivating to get their hands on his talent, but somehow Ryan still found that he felt…betrayed? No, that wasn't it, he thought as he cracked another beer. He understood the move. He’d seen the film. They’d used their fifth pick on a talented and deserving kid, but still, he found he felt hurt and - and tired. The Dolphins had just drafted his replacement, and that would mean that this little slice of stability he’d stumbled upon was once again about to be uprooted. 

To be a Quarterback in the NFL for 16 seasons for 8 different teams, you had to be either crazy or stupid, possibly both unless you just weren’t a human like Brady and Brees, both 43 and still kicking it, but even they had families, stability, something to fall back on, something to make everything worth it. Ryan? Ryan had never had that luxury, and it showed. His career had been a rollercoaster of emotions, injuries, and rejection, and he'd done all of it alone. For a while, at his lowest point, it'd felt like insanity. If he was honest, some days it still did. 

After years of unhappiness and malcontent, here with the Dolphins he'd thought he’d finally found something that he could maybe live with, something that at the very least didn’t make him want to give up every day, but now… well, maybe this was a sign. Maybe it was the incarnation of the voices in his head that questioned why he was even doing this. Hell, did he even like football anymore, and if not, what was the point? He’d made more than enough money hadn’t he? Was it really worth all this pain and distance to keep going, or was the alternative of being completely alone scarier?

He felt his heart seize, and Ryan quickly shook his head, took another drink. There were some dangerous memories and emotions coming to him, and he needed to get a grip. This quarantine was giving him too much time with his thoughts. Ryan knew what he was. He was an archetypical journeyman quarterback. He’d moved all over the country, played for more teams than anyone else at his position, and he’d certainly been through this before. He could do it once more. He could bounce back. Right?

A few more beers later, Ryan was so tipsy he'd thought he’d imagined his usually quiet phone buzz until it buzzed again. He picked it up, squinting at the bright screen as he put in his pin. 

_Unknown Number_

_Hey_

_Is this Ryan Fitzpatrick?_

Ryan frowned. It was strange that he'd get a text from an unknown number. Should he answer it? This was his private number after all. He could count on just two hands the number of people who had it. It seemed very unlikely that some random fan had obtained it. 

_Depends on who's asking._

_Lol_

_Well if this is Ryan, I’m really looking forward to working with you this season!_

_(If the whole thing actually happens that is. Fingers crossed!)_

_This is Tua btw_

_Tagovailoa_

“What the hell?” Ryan wondered out loud. He glanced at the TV. It was only midway through the second round. He vaguely remembered on his draft night, as soon as he’d finished with all the formalities, he’d partied until he could barely see straight. The last thing on his mind had been texting some aging journeyman teammate. His phone buzzed again.

_I just got drafted at Quarterback for the Dolphins!_

_I probably should have mentioned that first lol_

He said that as if Ryan somehow didn’t know who he was. As if he wasn’t the all time most efficient passer in college football history. As if he hadn't been projected to go number one in the draft ever since he threw the game-winning pass in the national championship as a true freshman. As if the Miami Dolphins and "Tank for Tua" hadn't been joined at the hip for the majority of last season. Ryan should probably say something before the kid thought he was ignoring him. 

_Yeah this is Ryan_

_Hi kid_

And ok, maybe Ryan wasn’t the best conversationalist, but to be fair he’d been in his house for like a month, and this was the first casual phone conversation he could remember having in a long time. He racked his brain, trying to think of something to say, but the kid beat him to it. 

_I was starting to think I had the wrong guy!_

_That would have been hella embarrassing lol_

_Can you imagine some random guy waking up to that??_

_That'd be a hard one to explain to the media haha_

Despite himself, Ryan felt his lips quirk upwards, envisioning some half-baked buzz word title like ‘draft night bungles’ and some sports ‘pundit’ rambling about the mishaps of all the kids' draft nights. It wasn’t a far stretch. Those media vultures would take anything.

_Well, congrats on your first round pick._

_Welcome to the team._

It seemed his sluggish brain had finally stumbled upon the obvious thing to say to a guy who had just landed his dream job.

_Thank you!_

_That really means a lot._

Ryan read the words again. They felt heavier somehow, more than just a flippant reply to what had admittedly been a poor attempt on his part at contributing to this impromptu conversation. Again, he wondered why Tua Tagovailoa, of all things to do on the most important night of his life, was talking to him of all people.

_How’d you get my number anyway?_

_I asked Coach Flores for it when we talked._

_I just figured it would be best to get in contact since we’ll be working so close together._

_I hope that’s not weird lol_

Ryan raised his eyebrows at that. Not even two hours after being drafted and the kid was already trying to work. Huh, that was- it was certainly different. 

_No, it’s fine._

_I just figured you’d be celebrating._

_I am!_

_My whole family is here!_

Jeez, is that what this kid called celebrating?

_My parents even made me a lei_

_Here, I’ll send a pic!_

Before Ryan could even react to the rapid-fire texts, the image had already come through. The picture was from the neck down, and he could see the beautiful lei. The leaves and petals were a myriad of crimson, white, and teal framed with a border of green. It hung from his broad shoulders and slung low over his chest where he’d removed his tie and unclasped the top two buttons on the collar of his dress shirt. Ryan’s eyes were drawn to his exposed collarbone, where he could see the flash of a golden chain hidden under the shirt. It was- He swallowed thickly. Seriously, what the hell?

_It’s beautiful._

_Thank you!_

_Anyway, I don’t want to keep you._

_I just figured I’d say hello._

_I really am excited to get to work with you._

_Yeah, me too kid._

And as soon as it happened, that was it. Ryan blinked at the far wall. It’d been the longest conversation he’d had in weeks, and it was with his replacement, the same kid he’d have to look in the eye and compete with in a few months. Though, maybe looking at him wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Something weighed heavy on him as Ryan unlocked his phone and scrolled up through the conversation until he came to the picture. He bit his lip, feeling something stirring in his chest. It really was beautiful. 

He sighed before exiting out of the app and closing his phone, but his mind wandered straight back to the picture, to the guy in the picture, and the short conversation they'd just had. He closed his eyes. This quarantine really was doing a number on him. He stood up. He needed another beer.

\---

He was training when it happened again. Sweat rolled down his face into his beard as he finished his last rep on the machine, music blaring in his wireless earbuds. It thrummed at the base of his skull, made him feel something, drowned out any thoughts that had become too loud in his quiet house. 

He’d moved to the treadmill, setting a walking pace to start, when the music in his ears faded just long enough for a ping to sound. Strange. It wasn’t that Ryan never received texts, it just wasn’t often. If it was business, and it often was, people preferred to email him. Texts were more personal, and there just wasn't a lot of that going on in Ryan's life. It was one of the prices of being a journeyman, keeping connections was difficult. More often than not, he found people tended to move on, and somewhere along the line, he’d just stopped trying altogether. It was easier that way, safer. 

Maintaining his pace, he pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen lit up, and he could see the notification. An unknown number. 

_Bro, did you see that email from the front office?_

_No preseason but otherwise our season will happen as planned!_

_I’m so excited!_

At first, Ryan was confused, but as he scrolled up through the conversation, he remembered through the veil of alcohol the draft night. The kid. 

_You didn’t know?_

_Nah bro, nobody told me anything until just now!_

_Still excited tho!_

Ryan let out a small huff. Rumors flew around the league and media like drain flies, and if you'd been around long enough you knew how to listen, you knew what was a smokescreen and what wasn’t, and you could sense the motivations of those in power. If he was going to "mentor" the kid like everyone expected him to, he supposed that was one of the things he'd have to teach him. Perhaps, he could also install a healthy amount of cynicism. Just a dash.

_It’ll be something that’s for sure._

_I’m betting on it being a pain._

_Haha yeah. It’ll be a little different, but it’s still a dream come true._

Again, much like last time, the words felt like they had some unknown gravity, and Ryan almost felt guilty for being so pessimistic. Another ping sounded.

_Anyway, how are you doing man? Has quarantine been treating you well?_

Ryan felt his heart begin to race as a million thoughts ran through his head. How could he possibly answer that? It had been hard for him. The long days and the cold nights. The crushing sense of emptiness and loneliness amplified by the desolate expanse of his house. How each day seemed grayer than the last. But, that wasn't just quarantine was it? No, this had been growing with him as he dragged it from town to town over years and years. Quarantine had just exacerbated it, this - this sluggishness. It was… 

_Just doing some training._

There. That was safe, right? And it was true. He was a journeyman quarterback, and this was what he did. He had his routine. He was getting stronger. He was getting better at his craft. That was all they cared about. That was what mattered. Right?

_Me too man!_

_Well not training actually_

_Just rehab lol_

_Here look_

The picture came just as suddenly as the last one. It was a picture of the kid’s reflection in a mirror and captured the room behind him, the rows and rows of workout machines in a room decked out in crimson and white. The University of Alabama logo hung over the room from its high ceiling. Tua grinned from where he sat on the bench press, clad in a thin white Alabama T-shirt with a Nike swoosh near the collarbone. The fabric was wet with sweat, and Ryan wasn't sure if it was just the lighting, but he swore he could almost see his skin through it, the lean sinewy muscle of his form hidden underneath. 

Even though he was just walking, Ryan felt red in the face, a ripple of something shooting through him abruptly. Jesus Christ. 

_Those are some pretty sweet digs._

_Nice facilities_

He almost wanted to slap himself in the face. Nice facilities? Could he be more awkward? Where the hell did he come up with this shit?

_Haha, ikr?_

_My rehab schedule is pretty intense so I spend most of my days in here_

_I was lucky tbh_

_Coach pulled some strings for me_

_Where do you work out??_

_I really need to find a place to rehab when I move down there lol_

Something in Ryan twinged. _When I move down there._ Somehow, he’d forgotten that soon this kid would be a part of his everyday life. And that made him feel… feel something he couldn't quite grasp.

_I have a gym at my house_

_Sounds like a great set up!_

_Send me a picture_

At this, Ryan stopped abruptly. No literally, he stopped walking and almost fell on his ass as he rolled off the treadmill. The kid wanted a picture. From him. The last time he’d sent a picture to someone it had been to his brother. A picture of his nachos from some obscure cantina they both loved in another life when he’d passed through his home town some forgotten offseason ago. 

Home. What did that even mean anymore? He'd had houses in many places, each time thinking, “this, this is home, this is where the long road ends,” only to find it lacking, missing something he couldn’t quite get his fingers on, like a ball snapped unruly that slipped through his fingers. Then he would think, as he moved on to the next house, to the next team, to the next city, “this, this is where I'll find it,” only for it to be as cold and barren as the last place. 

Even now, as he looked around, felt around, this place didn’t feel like a home. But then again, as he looked down at his phone, reread the messages, felt the thrill run through him, the thread of something warm. It had been so long since someone had reached out to him. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Felt connection. Felt human. 

Ryan lifted his camera, selected an angle of the room he liked, and snapped the photo, only hesitating slightly before he sent it.

The photo showed off his modest but efficient home gym. And ok, maybe it wasn’t a great photo. The flash reflected in the mirrors brightly, and it was a little blurry, a little awkward, but Tua didn’t seem to care.

_Bro what a sweet gym *heart eye emoji*_

Ryan stared at the little icon, that warmth curling in his chest. 

_Aw it’s not that impressive_

_Nah bro, it totally is._

_Nice facilities lol_

Ryan reddened at the obvious tease, but he couldn’t help the short chuckle that ran through him, breaking out into the empty space. 

_What kind of training are you doing today?_

And just like that, they were talking. Like it was easy. Like it was simple. Ryan worked out his thumbs more than anything else as they talk back and forth about their training regimens. Well, rehab for the kid. It turned out Tua would be nearing clearance for football activity in just a month or so. Ryan, having gone through major injuries of his own, urged him to take it slow still. He remembered how easy it was to overdo it when he was younger and more overzealous. 

In return, the kid told him about a leg exercise that he loved. It was surprisingly something Ryan had never heard of, and he vowed to give it a try on his next leg day. 

_I should probably go at least try to finish my rehab so my dad doesn’t kill me lol_

Ryan’s own stomach growled, reminding him that it had been well over an hour since they’d started talking, putting him an hour behind on his routine, but even then he didn't want to stop, didn't want to give up this feeling yet. He suddenly felt a stab of guilt for keeping the kid. Tua getting his strength back was way more important than talking to him.

_Oh yeah, sorry about that kid._

_I didn’t mean to keep you._

_Bro, what are you talking about I texted you first lmao_

_Thanks for putting up with my rambling lol_

Rambling. It hadn’t felt like that to him. To him, every word of this had felt like the kiss of sun on pale cold skin. Like coming to the ground after being hit.

_Anytime kid :)_

\---

They talked often after that. Nearly every day. Some days were missed just because that was the life of a football player, even in the off season, even in the middle of a pandemic. With the ever impending football season approaching, Ryan had zoom meetings with the coaches, interviews and functions with the press, and the kid had all of that plus a life. 

On top of the things Ryan did and his endless rehab schedule, Tua talked of other things. His college friends and relatives from home, his brother and sisters, old anecdotes from his life back in Hawaii, and the pictures. The kid treated his camera like his arm distributing the football and Ryan like his favorite wide receiver. He sent pictures of his food, his car, his brother, his prized footballs. He sent sunsets from some river in Alabama. He sent pictures of his apartment and his moving boxes. 

And each one had a flash of the kid in it, his hand on a desk, his grinning face as he leaned against the old weathered brick of a building, his feet as he sat in the grass, the muscles of his bicep as he performed an exercise Ryan had told him about. And deep down, the veteran cherished each one, loved the thrill as he received each picture, clung to the color that this kid had brought to his lonely life. 

Somewhere along the line, Ryan became tired of looking at _Unknown Number_ in his phone and changed it to _Tuabird_ after the kid had told him the long meaning of his full name and finding that it strangely fit him. 

Tua was enrapturing. He had a way of sucking Ryan in with his charm, weaving his way deftly past his defenses and his awkwardness, and setting in until, before Ryan knew it, he felt comfortable. And as great and interesting as Tua was, the kid never neglected him, and it seemed he took great care to make sure of that. He listened to him. No, he didn't just listen, he chased after him, always circling before jumping to the next topic, always bringing Ryan in, refusing to let him sit back and turtle in their conversations. It was inspiring, and it made Ryan feel lighter. It made him want to try. It made him want to be honest. 

Tua asked him questions about his life in the league, coaxed old stories from the veteran that he'd long forgotten about, and slowly, Ryan felt himself warming up. Coming alive. Opening up. Like someone had handed him a poncho in a rainstorm. Like someone had turned on the street lights on a dark road. Slowly, Ryan began to hate the days he went to bed without hearing from Tua. 

It had been an uncharacteristically busy day in quarantine. Three meetings ate up most of his time, training and studying the playbook ate the rest. Even so, Ryan was hyper-aware of his phone all day. Jumping to every notification hoping to see the familiar name. In the back of his mind, he knew it was stupid. Hell, it was borderline creepy. That he was a grown man nearing his forties, and the brightest spot of his day was talking to a 22 year old kid. That somehow, in the last few weeks and here alone in his house after 16 years, life had boiled down to the ping of the next text notification, and the warmth that was increasingly growing in his chest for the kid. His fondness for him expanding exponentially every time they exchanged words. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the kid to suddenly wake up and realize that Ryan wasn't worth it and withdraw all his warmth and kindness and comfort.

It all felt pathetic, but he couldn't help it. It just felt too good to stop. So, Ryan sat on the edge of his bed, phone clutched in hand, his thumb hovering over the contact information. He hadn’t heard from Tua today. Not that it was unusual for that to happen, but something in him just wouldn't let it go. Something longed for the ease of their talks that wasn’t bogged down by the weight of bureaucracy and was full of that intangible feeling that just wasn't there with the others he'd spoken with today. So, that was why he was sitting there with his anxiety and his phone, like a teenager too afraid to text their crush. 

Until now, their correspondence had been via text message, but Ryan's thumb hovered over the call icon. It was rare that he initiated contact between them, usually just because the kid got there first, but Ryan was feeling a little bold today. Just bold enough to sit there with his insecurities and think about calling. He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning over his hands in his lap. Jesus Christ, he was 38 years old, this was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he was actually going to go through with calling. At least, that was what he'd thought until the call cadence started. He jolted and nearly dropped his phone, panic coursing through him. The heat from his hovering thumb must have accidentally triggered the call. He barely had time to consider hanging up before the call went through. 

"Hello?" 

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. This was really happening. 

"Uh, h-hey kid." He cleared his throat, trying to get himself under control. 

"Ryan! It's really great to hear from you man. How's it going?"

There was a soft lilt to his voice. The emphasis placed on different syllables, a smoother articulation to certain vowels and consonants. It had to be the prettiest thing Ryan had ever heard, and he knew it would just be another thing about this guy he would be hopelessly addicted to. 

"Uh, nothing much. I - I just…" He trailed off.

What the hell should he say? That he was sitting there debating whether to call him? Ask him why he didn't text today? Tell him that- well, that he missed him?

"Just what?" Tua was softer this time, more concentrated, almost intimate, and Ryan lit up like a firework, feeling something shoot down his spine and settle warmly in his gut. 

"I just missed hearing from you today."

The kid laughed, but it wasn’t cruel. It was a soft chuckle, warm like the flame of a candle, and Ryan felt himself turn red.

"Oh really?" 

Ryan laughed himself, and even though his face was still red, and even though he still felt embarrassed, he also found himself feeling, like he often did with this kid, at ease, like it was okay, like everything simultaneously was and wasn’t a big deal.

"Yeah, I guess I did." Ryan glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30, but still, you never knew. 

"I uh, I hope it's not too late to be talking."

"Nah man, it's only 9:30 here. It's funny you mention it cause I totally meant to text you earlier, but Coach Gailey had me in a meeting until literally just two hours ago. So, then I had to cut my rehab short, and that pissed off my Dad. So, there’s another hour-long lecture." His exasperation was light but tinged with something heavier. Ryan was still admiring the inflection, hanging on the way his flowing voice brought life to his previously static words. 

"Yeah, Gailey's a hardass, but he knows what he's doing. Been around long enough to know anyway."

"Mmm, I meant to text you cause I had some questions about the playbook. Heh heh." And Ryan’s heart almost melted at that shy little chuckle. 

"Think you can help me out, man?"

"Yeah, no problem." 

Just like everything with Tua, it was easy after that, comfortable. Even though he'd just received the playbook a week ago, he was a quick study. He understood a good chunk of the scheme, and anything he didn’t understand led to intelligent questions, which eventually led to a discussion on football history and theory itself, specifically about some of the west coast concepts, which the kid was familiar with. 

"It’s a little archaic, but hell, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. I mean just look at Gailey. He’s been around for a long time, kid. You should see his office. It's just shelves and shelves full of playbooks. He has some stuff from way back when. Like back from when I was a little kid watching Joe Montana." 

"Man, you think Bill Walsh knew what his finesse the ball, sling first ask questions later attitude on offense would bring?" 

Ryan laughed. Laughed from deep in his gut. Laughed like he hadn't in what felt like years. He fell back against his bed.

"If only the rest of the league at the time knew, kid. If only they knew." 

He listened to the remnants of Tua’s own laughter trickle through his ears. They settled into a silence comfortable like velvet as Ryan sank into his bedspread. He could hear the kid's soft breath over the line, moving, alive, and warm, and Ryan thought that here, with Tua, like this, it felt… it felt…

And suddenly, in that quiet contentment, something occurred to him, racing through his mind quick and intangible, something from deep inside him.

"Hey, Tua?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever want what you can't have?" The words spilled over his lips before he could stop them.

There was a deep pause. A heavy, weighted sigh. 

"All the time, Ryan. All the time." Tua’s voice was hoarse. Almost weary.

And suddenly, more than anything, Ryan wanted to say something, to put words to this feeling, let them flow out over his tongue like liquid fire. Raw and unfiltered. 

"Tua, I-"

The sound of a door opening over the line interrupted him. A new voice spoke, deeper and farther away but still loud and clear. 

"Tua, you should be asleep." Something rustled. 

"Dad. I-" 

"I'm speaking.” There was a long beat of silence.

“Now, I told you earlier that your decision to not do your rehab was unacceptable, and I come in here to see you on the phone instead of asleep so you can make it up tomorrow. Now, both myself personally and this family have sacrificed too much for you to throw it away because you woke up one day and didn't feel like trying. If you don't have the discipline to do right then that's a different conversation, are we clear?" The words hung in the air, but to Ryan at least, the threat was clear. 

"Yessir." 

"And we will be talking about this in the morning." The door closed. There was a bit more rustling, another sigh.

“Hey Ryan, I uh- I should probably go." 

Ryan swallowed. His head was swimming, the warm feeling in his chest having been stamped out so suddenly. But still, he didn’t want to let go. Not like this. Not when he was so close to getting his fingers on it. Not with the alarms going off in his head like it was third down with a 300-pound defender bearing down on him. Not when it was his fault for calling in the first place. 

Oh. This was his fault. 

"Uh yeah, sure kid." The words left his mouth quietly, reluctantly.

"Ok." Tua’s voice was clipped. Abrupt. Short. And something in Ryan’s heart seized.

"Tua wait. Are you- are you ok?" 

There was a beat of silence, but when he spoke again his voice was lighter than ever. 

"Yeah. I'm fine. Hey, I'll talk to you tomorrow bro, Ok?

"Yeah, sure-" The line clicked closed.

\---

Except, he didn’t text the next day. Or the day after that. Ryan cracked on the third day and texted the kid, only for his attempts to go unanswered. After that, Ryan was officially worried. He spent the rest of that day and the next replaying everything from that night back in his head hundreds of times, trying to find the exact moment that he’d made the kid hate him. 

What was it about him that made everyone leave him? Was it the saying he missed him? Was it getting the kid in trouble? Was it how he’d almost confessed…? Confessed what? Confessed that every time they spoke it felt like life was worth living again? Confessed that he'd saved every picture sent? Confessed that Ryan felt for him like he’d felt for no one else in his life before? Confessed that he…? 

Ryan wouldn't let himself finish the thought. Didn't want to let himself think about it, but that didn't make it any less true. 

Ryan knew he was gay. Had known since a few memorable flings in his college years, but this was an entirely different thing. 

Meaningful connections in his tenure had been rare, and actual feelings for other people had been nonexistent. That was just the way it was, the way it had to be. The NFL didn’t care about your feelings or your weaknesses, and there was a reason no working NFL player had come out as remotely queer. Of course, there had been the occasional one night stand or hook up, but this wasn’t just some standard attraction he could solve with a quick dirty fuck. He'd never in all his years felt like this for someone, certainly not someone 16 years his junior, certainly not someone who still spent weekend nights at his parent’s house, and still had trophies from high school on his walls. 

Ryan got up off his couch and wandered to the kitchen, his fingers itching for a drink to drown out these feelings of dread, fear, and guilt. What was he supposed to do? Call up this guy who wasn’t even answering him and say, ‘Hey! I know I’m nearly old enough to be your father, but you make me feel like I could actually be happy for once, oh by the way can I kiss you?’ Somehow, he didn’t see that going so well. 

“Fuck,” Ryan sighed. The expletive echoed around his empty kitchen. He felt helpless on the fringe of ecstasy and misery, existing in the hot and cold, the fire and ice in his chest. Maybe he needed something stronger.

Riffling through his cabinets yielded an old, expensive bottle of scotch, some gift from an owner he vaguely remembered receiving. He was only halfway through one glass, but he could feel himself starting to mellow out. His thoughts a bit farther away. His kitchen was quiet, and, if he closed his eyes, it was almost peaceful. His thigh buzzed. Ryans eyes shot open, his heart rate immediately skyrocketing. He fumbled his phone from his pocket, the screen glowing to life. 

_Hey man, sorry for not getting back to you sooner._

_It’s just been a bit crazy here, and I haven't been able to look at my phone for a few days._

_I hope you’re not mad._

Relief coursed through him as he read the messages. At least he hadn’t run the guy off. At least Tua hadn’t left him. It was worrying though. Considering they had been talking almost constantly for a month and a half, Ryan sort of knew his tendencies. It wasn’t like him to not look at his phone for days on end. 

_Of course not. I was just worried I’d gotten you in trouble._

_Nah bro, it was totally my fault._

_My Dad was right anyway. I’ve just got to be better is all._

Better. It was a well known cliche of inspirational bullshit. Something you said to the press or on the field to motivate people, to further cultivate that precious illusion of the perfectly humble and motivated football player. But Ryan knew that for this guy, it wasn’t some act. That he meant it. That he didn't think he was enough. That he'd probably spent the past few days working himself to the bone, so he could prove to his father probably, and anyone else who would dare to look, that he was well and worthy. That he was better. This coming from a guy who spent over half his days rehabbing from a devastating injury and still went fifth in the draft. Sometimes, it seemed if he worked any harder he’d crash and burn into a thousand pieces.

_I do have good news though!_

_I had my last check-up yesterday, and the doctors completely cleared me for all football activities!_

Ryan did light up at that, and he knew a stupidly silly grin had covered his face. That was good news, and it was totally all on the kid. Ryan knew that pretty much every time they talked, Tua was rehabbing in some way. Constantly. Obsessively. His work ethic was insane. It was just one of the many things about him that made him the type of guy you had to root for. The type that you wanted everything good in the world for.

_Congratulations!_

_No one deserves it more than you, Tua._

He hesitated only slightly before sending it, hoped that somehow through words on a screen he could convey how much he meant it.

_Thank you_

_You’ve been a real help to me, Ryan._

_Really, thank you so much._

Ryan reread the words almost in disbelief as he felt that familiar warmth spread throughout him. It was the opposite, surely. What had he done except soak up the rays of Tua’s sun? Let him bring color to a life that was certainly losing its meaning. How could he begin to take credit for that? He was about to say as much when his phone buzzed again.

_Love you, bro_

Ryan’s eyes widened as he read it. Then he was on fire, a blazing inferno in his chest. And even though he was burning, his vision was blurred with tears. One rolled down in a fat drop and disappeared into his beard. But, he couldn't help the smile on his face any more than the tenderness in his heart. 

_Love you too, kid_

\---

He was a goner after that. Hook, line, and sinker, fish down the river. His acceptance didn't get rid of his guilt or his shame, though. Multiple nights over the next week were spent lying awake, trying to balance his feelings of elation and fear. Briefly, he questioned if he was mentally sick being attracted to someone over a decade and a half younger than he was. It was a fear that had been at the edge of his brain as his predicament had become more and more apparent. But the kid was 22, it wasn’t like he was a minor. Then again, if he wasn’t guilty then why was he questioning himself? The scotch bottle saw some more use that week.

Nothing cleared Ryan's head more than throwing. Summer in Miami wasn't kind. Grey clouds covered the sky, and the air was thick with humidity that clung to his skin, but after many years in Florida, Ryan had become used to the weather, and here in his backyard by himself with the ball, it was sublime. No pressure, no people or cameras breathing down his neck, no sparkly entertainment for the masses, just Ryan and the ball, pure, soaring, and freeing. The drop back, the transfer of his weight up through his body, the feeling of the ball leaving his fingers.

Sometimes like this, he felt like he was still a kid in college, the power of youth and vitality coursing through his body. The joy of true comradery with his teammates. Hoping that somehow, if he could just do this for the rest of his life he’d be happy. Now, as he launched his final ball, maybe not as powerfully as back then but more refined, he wondered what his younger self would think of him now. His phone buzzed from his pocket. What would he have thought if someone nearly forty years old had been in love with him at that age?

Ryan sat in the grass before opening his phone. This time, it was a picture of a bunch of boxes, all clearly labeled and neatly stacked. The room around them was mostly barren, the shelves empty.

_Just finished most of my packing!_

_I’m pretty much ready for the move._

Tua was coming to the city. It made sense. Training camp would be here before they knew it. He’d be seeing the kid before he knew it. Not only would Ryan be seeing him, but they would also be working together for days on end, practically glued at the hip between practices, meetings, and the Quarterback room. Ryan picked at the grass, his fingers digging into the moist dirt. What was he going to do? He could barely keep a lid on his feelings when they interacted over the phone, how was he supposed to do it all day in person? His heart started to pound as the anxiety and fear welled in his chest. He had to do something. Before he could even think about it, he hit the call button. He barely had time to regret it before the call went through.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

They hadn’t called since the last one had ended so terribly, some sort of unspoken rule between them, or at least it seemed that way to Ryan. But as that flowing voice floated through his ears, he wished he’d called again sooner. Just to hear that comforting lilt, just to feel it fizz and trickle at the base of his brain.

“Hey, kid. I hope this is a good time to be calling.”

He laughed, hearty and full, and Ryan turned to putty. He hit the speaker button, and Tua's voice wafted around him like a pleasant smell. 

“Yeah bro, it’s totally fine. I’m not even home. What’d you wanna talk about?”

“Oh uh, yeah. So, when are you moving down?”

“See about that, I actually don’t have a house yet,” the kid sighed.

Ryan raised his eyebrows at that. It was only a month and a half out from training camp. There was still time, but it was cutting it close.

“You don’t?”

“Nah, see because of Covid and everything, we had to do all the house tours virtually. So, we haven’t been able to make a decision quite yet. There is a house we’re like 90% sure on, but I want to see it first, ya know?”

Ryan nodded before remembering the guy couldn't see him.

“Makes sense. That’s a pretty big decision.”

“Yeah, they have an opening Saturday, so I’m gonna head down there in a couple of days and knock out some other things while I'm at it. I still need to meet with the medical staff and Coach Flo. Hey, do you know any decent hotels in the city? It doesn’t have to be fancy or anything. I’m not picky.”

All Ryan’s brain could latch onto was that Tua would be in the city in just a couple of days. He’d be right here within reach instead of miles away across a Covid riddled landscape. Ryan’s heart seized in his chest, and what happened next was almost as preventable as a lightning bolt.

“Why don’t you just stay with me?”

It was out of his mouth before he could even think, and Ryan looked out into the sky where his words floated the way one would look at a glass of spilled milk. There was a pause just long enough to induce heart wrenching panic that he'd fucked up, and Ryan opened his mouth to take it back, but he was interrupted. 

“Ryan, are you for real?”

“Uh y-yeah sure.”

“Bro, that’d be so dope! That way I won't have to take any risks with getting sick or anything. Are you sure? I don’t wanna intrude on your home.”

He sounded so happy, a bit less weary. Ryan didn’t know if Tua knew he sounded tired, and maybe to the average ear he wouldn't have, but Ryan could tell. Maybe because Ryan knew what weary felt like. Knew how it crept up on you, slowly consuming you until all of a sudden getting up was the hardest thing you ever had to do. Suddenly, Ryan had no doubts. If Ryan could help take away that feeling from him even just in a little way, it would be worth it.

“It’d be my honor, Tua.”

There was a deep pause, and briefly, Ryan wondered if he’d gone too far, revealed too much.

“Ok, thank you, Ryan. This means a lot.” His voice had taken on that soft quality again. Like he’d pressed on the words as he said them, and they sunk into Ryan’s mind like butter melting in a pan. 

It was quiet after that. Ryan put his hands in the grass behind him and leaned back, a thin breeze cooling the sweat on his face. He closed his eyes for what could have been minutes or hours he didn’t know which.

“Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Send me a picture.”

A small grin flashed on Ryan’s face, and he opened his eyes. The sun had just started to come out, throwing its gold rays on him, and he breathed deep, his limbs warm with the light. He picked up his phone from the grass, selected an angle, and snapped the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> The other two chapters have already been written, and the next one will be up in a few days, once I've had time to make some final edits to it.
> 
> Please, write me a comment, and let me know what you thought! I'd love to hear any criticism or comments you'd have to give me.
> 
> Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I just want to say thank you for all the positive feedback I got on the first chapter. It was super nice to read the comments that were left for me, so thank you all very much! 
> 
> This is a pretty long chapter, and there's a lot going on here so buckle up and enjoy!
> 
> Once again, this work has not been beta read, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

He was too busy cleaning the next day to be nervous. Ryan aired out one of his many spare bedrooms, opened the windows to let clean air into the stale room, changed the bedding, and made sure the hall bathroom was clean. It was all clean of course, barring the thick layer of dust that coated everything. These rooms had never been used. 

Ryan sat on the bed after vacuuming, looked around, and briefly wondered if he was trying too hard. Looking down the hall, he wondered what this house could have been in a different life. Kids lining the halls and thundering down the stairs. A partner to share his lonely bed with at night. A family to make his struggles worth it. Did some distant part of him want that when he'd bought this house, with its many rooms and large kitchen? Did some dormant, primal part of his hindbrain snake into his decision making, hoping beyond hopes that for once he could make this house a home? 

Ryan scoffed out loud.

No, that didn’t seem likely. When he’d bought the house, the first and really only criteria he'd had was if it had a yard big enough to train in, everything else came second, was really inconsequential to his addled, grey mind moving to the eighth city on his journey. It was practical. Besides, he’d never wanted the picket fence house and two kids, had never let himself desire the comfort of partnership, and he supposed that was one reason why he was always moving, always restless. Always clinging to the league, to his love of football like a safety blanket even though he was withering inside because wasn’t that better than the alternative? Would he rather all the pain than being completely alone? He’d never found someone who'd made him want to stick around and make it work… until maybe now.

He continued through the house, cleaning the more used spaces, some cold fire burning in his veins. Maybe it was his primal hindbrain urging him to make his nest presentable for the object of his affection. Maybe it was just his mother’s instructions ingrained in him to present a clean house and not a bachelor’s pigsty. Maybe it was some of both. 

Ryan woke up to a text the next morning. 

_Hey bro, I’m on my way._

_See you in 12 hours :D_

That had been sent at 5:57 am meaning the kid would arrive at around 6 pm. Ryan looked at his clock, 8:07 am. A 10-hour wait then.

_Sure thing kid_

_Drive safe_

He hesitated.

_Send me pictures_

The hours ticked by simultaneously faster and slower than he would have liked them to. Ryan alternated between a state of panic and one of excitement, but either way, fast or slow, apprehension or longing, his anxiety lingered just under the surface along with his guilt and fear like a pit of snakes. 

So, he distracted himself. It took less than 30 minutes to put together a protein shake. As Ryan took down a large gulp his phone pinged. He licked the remnants from his lips and opened the message. The picture was taken from behind the wheel of a car looking out at the clear blue sky, still slightly tinged pink from the sunrise, with a hand holding a styrofoam cup of coffee. 

_Mornin’_

Ryan’s lips quirked upwards, and he took down the last of his shake. 

_Nice sunrise :)_

It took about an hour to dust all the furniture again and about 3 to completely mow his extensive lawn. He was coming in from outside and wiping the sweat from his eyes when he checked his phone on the table. One notification from 47 minutes ago. This one was of a small man-made lake most likely beside a highway rest stop. A finger pointed to some strange shapes in the water. 

_Bro, that’s totally an alligator *horror face emoji*_

Ryan snorted and bit back a grin.

_Tua, those are just rocks lol_

After his shower, he spent a good 30 minutes putting dry rub on a thick cut of pork belly and another hour heating up his grill. He put the meat on, closed the lid, and set a timer on his phone for 4 hours. As he hit start he got a notification. This one was taken at what looked to be a gas station pump. The kid held his keys in his hand. An enamel Dolphins logo keychain sat proudly in his palm next to a University of Alabama script A and other trinkets attached to chains. 

_Just bought my first piece of dolphins merch!_

_How does all that stuff fit in your pocket?_

By the time 5:30 finally came around, Ryan's anxiety was rolling in his stomach like waves in a hurricane. It reached its peak at 6, and by that point, he was almost shaking and every sound had him on edge. By the time 6:30 came around, he was mostly confused. 

Ryan scrolled back through their conversation to check that yes, he did send Tua the right address. It was probably just traffic troubles, but still, wouldn’t the kid text him if that had been the case? Considering this was the same guy who would apologize for answering a text a few hours late, that certainly seemed to be the case. He distracted himself by checking the pork belly timer. Still an hour left. 

When the clock hit 7:30, he was officially worried. An hour and a half late and no calls or texts. Ryan’s mind raced. Anything could have happened to him. His car could have broken down, or he could have wrecked or something worse. He pulled out his phone.

_Is everything alright?_

He waited. 

Nothing. 

Ryan swallowed. 

He hit the call button.

It was on the third ring when the knock came. Ryan jerked, his phone clattering to the rug. He picked it up, his heart flooding with a mixture of relief and anxiety as he walked to the door trying to take deep breaths. He stared at the wood for just a second, some part of him knowing that when he opened the door things would change forever. His hand on the knob trembled before he twisted it and opened the door. He looked down. 

Tua was shorter than him, just by a few inches, just barely enough to be noticeable. He was grinning that soft grin. The one Ryan had seen in countless pictures, pictures he now knew didn’t do justice to the gentle curve of his cheek, or the warmth it brought to his kind dark eyes as the kid looked just imperceptibly up at him, and Ryan felt something in him click, small and obscure seeing Tua here in the flesh, real, safe, and alive. Like all the noise and emotions that had been simmering inside of him all day had zeroed out, allowing Ryan to focus solely on this person here on his doorstep.

He was here. He was safe. He was here. In arms reach. And once again before Ryan could even think, he'd wrapped Tua up in a hug. The kid just chuckled and hugged him back just as strong, surprisingly strong. 

“Hey Ryan,” Tua whispered into the space just below his ear. Ryan shivered, feeling as if his whole body had lit up like a firework. He could feel the heat of Tua's body and the compact muscle of his form through his grey shirt, could feel the reverberations of his laughter resonating in his chest. He smelled of sandalwood and earth and of the sweet ocean breeze of some distant coastline. 

“Hey Tua,” he murmured and squeezed just a little harder.

They stayed like that for a few more long moments. Ryan savoring the touch, soaking it up like a plant starved of water before the thought occurred to him that they probably couldn't stay like this forever, and moreover, it probably wasn't appropriate to hold your young protege in your arms for upwards of 5 minutes like he wanted to. 

Ryan reluctantly let go. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to regain some of his composure, some of his control. Trying to remind himself that he was 38 years old for God's sake and that Tua was just a guy. He could handle this, it was fine. But still it wasn't. 

He'd been through brutal firings all while keeping his dignity. He'd fielded hot topic questions from the most ruthless of media vultures. He'd stared down 300-pound defenders running full speed at him looking to take his head off and still thrown over their heads for a touchdown with everything on the line, but somehow none of those things had prepared him for this moment here right now in front of Tua. The guy who had come into his life and slowly become everything. Who was somehow more radiant and incredible in person than in the many pictures Ryan had saved on his phone. The person who Ryan knew, now more than ever, he was not only crushingly in love with but desperately, hopelessly attracted to. That coupled with the fear and anxiety the revelation brought, not to mention his embarrassment, it was overwhelming.

He was blazing. His whole body was on fire. His head was hot. Ryan knew he was red in the face, and he was grateful his beard mostly hid it. His heart was pounding. His mind was racing. Was this what love felt like? God, he was gonna be sick, he was gonna- 

"Ryan, it's so good to finally see you!" Tua smiled brightly, clapping him on the shoulder, and Ryan abruptly jerked out of his thoughts at his touch, his hand a warm, solid, and grounding presence on his shoulder, and all that noise and panic and fear felt secondary to this moment. Tua squeezed his shoulder, his smile dimming with concern. 

"Hey, are you alright?"

Ryan swallowed and gave a bashful smile, pulling himself together.

"Uh yeah, yeah I am. It's just uh- it's good to see you too, kid." Ryan clapped him on the shoulder back, and after a few more seconds cleared his throat again. 

"So uh, come on in. Is that all you brought?” At the kid’s feet lay a simple black Nike duffle bag, scuffed and beat up around the edges. 

“Yeah, " he said picking it up.

He beckoned the kid inside and led him up the stairs. 

“Man, these are some nice facilities. Lots of space.” The kid laughed. 

The awkward blurb Ryan had spouted in their second conversation had quickly become a sort of inside joke for them, and it felt familiar enough for Ryan to relax a bit, let the tension fade from his shoulders. Ryan shot him a playful glare in response, marveling at his ability to do so. 

“Yeah, too much space if you ask me.” He pushed open the door to the guest room he’d fixed up and flicked the lights on. 

“I got it all set up for you. Bathroom's just across the hall.” He stood in the doorway as the kid walked past him into the room and sat down his stuff. Ryan watched the muscles in his back work, absorbing every twitch and movement the way a parched river bed welcomes the first rainfalls. Finally, the kid turned around, grinning that same grin that made Ryan’s heart lurch for just the second time in five minutes as he walked back over, placing his hand on Ryan’s shoulder again. 

“Hey, thanks for letting me stay here. You didn’t have to do this.” Soft again and Ryan had to stop himself from closing the distance between them, wrapping the kid up again and never letting him go. Instead, he just smiled. 

“I told you before that it was my honor. I’m just glad you made it safely. I was pretty worried when you were so late and didn’t answer my text.” The kid looked confused for a second before a look of realization dawned on his face. 

“Bro, I totally meant to text you that the traffic was bad, but my phone died like three hours ago.” Tua pulled the offending device from his pocket and chuckled sheepishly. 

“Sorry.”

And Ryan almost laughed. For so long, they’d needed a phone to communicate only to have them fail at the last three hours before contact. 

"No worries, I'm just- well, I'm just glad you're here." Ryan cut his eyes away, hoping against all odds he didn't sound like a lovesick teenager. But it was true. Despite his anxiety and his guilt and the possibly selfish reasons he'd invited the kid over that he would rather not think about, just being here with Tua for a few minutes, his words and voice not distorted by phone quality, seeing his expressions and mannerisms color them even more, seeing the adorable crinkle of his eyes when he smiled shyly, and the playful twinkle in them when he egged Ryan on, it was intoxicating. And Ryan knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it, somehow this just felt… it felt … 

His own phone went off in his pocket, and he jerked out of his thoughts abruptly. The timer. Jeez, he'd forgotten all about the meat. Faintly, he thought that leaving a fire unattended was pretty irresponsible, but then again so was falling for your young protege and then inviting him to your house. Well, either way, it was too late to go back now. He cleared the notification on his phone and tried to clear his head. 

“Here, you get settled in while I check on dinner.” 

“Wait, you made dinner?” 

"Yeah, hopefully." Ryan turned and hurried down the hall. 

"Hey, Ryan?" he heard as he reached the stairs ,and he halted and turned back around. The kid had poked his head out of the doorway, one hand curled around the door jamb.

“Yeah?” 

Tua smiled that soft smile again.

"I'm glad I'm here too."

\---

It turned out pork belly was pretty hard to ruin. Ryan poked at it. Even though he’d pretty much neglected it in his anxiety-riddled state, the slab of meat seemed to have largely taken care of itself under the hood of his grill. It had grown dark outside, his back yard now cloaked in black, the only light coming from his porch light and the orange flames of the grill. The flames were calming, almost hypnotizing, invoking distant, pleasant memories Ryan could recall of grilling with his father and late night college bonfires. The door slid open, and Ryan looked up from the fire to see the kid approaching him. 

“Uh hey, was everything fine up there? You get settled in alright?” 

“Oh yeah man, everything’s perfect. Thanks again by the way.” Tua stood next to him and leaned over to peer into the flames. 

“Bro, is that pork belly? Cause that’s my favorite.” Ryan hummed absent-mindedly moving it around a bit with his tongs.

“I know.”

“You do?” The kid sounded surprised, and only then did Ryan’s words catch up to him.

Was it weird that he knew that? Surely not. It had somehow seemed like the natural course of action to make the kid his favorite dish. Was that weird?

“Uh yeah, remember when we were talking about cheat days, and I said my favorite was nachos, and you said yours was-” 

“Kalua pig from home but that pork belly was close enough. You remembered that?” Again he sounded surprised. 

“Well yeah, I - I remember all of our conversations, Tua.” 

The kid looked flat out stunned for a second, and Ryan cursed his honesty. 

“I know it’s not a cheat day, but I just figured-” 

“No no, I love it. I just- I don’t think anyone’s ever cooked just for me is all. Uh, thanks.” 

There was almost something fragile in his voice, just barely. Ryan looked over at him. He was staring blankly into the fire, the light flickering on his face. Before he could let himself overthink it, Ryan reached over and slung an arm around the kid’s shoulders. 

“Well, we're gonna destroy this one together.” And maybe he imagined Tua leaning slightly further into his side, but he didn’t imagine the soft smile. 

\---

Any further anxiety Ryan had was dispelled over dinner. Tua’s uncanny ability to make any situation comfortable made sure of that. No matter how awkward Ryan acted, no matter how many “uhs” and “ahs” Ryan pulled, the kid was never fazed, somehow always knowing what references to pull, what jokes to make, what topics to bring up to keep the conversation alive, to keep the connection alive, and before Ryan knew it, he was just as comfortable talking in person as he had grown to be over the phone. 

They chowed down on the pork belly and grilled vegetables. Tua told him about his trip. They talked and laughed and shooed flies away from their food, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes until Ryan wised up and lit the withered down bug repellent candle he kept on his porch table. Even the moments that were quiet were comfortable as Ryan soaked in the kid’s presence, admiring every detail. 

“Those are some pretty nice earrings.” Ryan sat back in his chair, wiping his fingers on his shorts discreetly. Tua looked up, then brought a hand to the diamond stud in his ear almost bashfully.

“Oh, these? I like them, but they were really expensive. I should have just bought the fake ones. My dad tore into me when he saw them.” Tua laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Ryan frowned, "He did?" 

"Well yeah. It was a really stupid purchase. And for what? Just to walk around with some rocks in my ears? Yeah no." He said crossing his arms over his chest then and cutting his eyes away.

Ryan knew for a fact that the kid had bought his mother and father a car and a Rolex respectively. Bought his brother new shoes and pearl necklaces for each of his sisters. Not that there was anything wrong with that. It just- well something about it didn't sit well with Ryan. To hear him talk about it, it seemed like Tua was the only one who was not allowed to celebrate his own success.

"Well, I really like them," Ryan spoke then regretted it. It wasn't like his opinion mattered, and even if it did, couldn't he just keep his mouth shut for once instead of sounding like a creep? But instead, Tua just looked up at him, something careful in his gaze.

"You do?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

"Yeah, their um, fresh…"

There was a pause between them as Ryan's words hung in the air before the kid began to laugh.

"Bro, I cannot believe you just said fresh like that." 

Ryan wasn't sure his beard could hide his blush this time. 

\---

After some cleaning, ("Kid, I'm not letting you wash the dishes." "Bro, I'm just saying it's only fair since you cooked.") Ryan put on an old 49ers game, one of his favorites from when he was little, and they sat down to watch Joe Montana and company execute the west coast offense the way a maestro conducts a world-class orchestra. 

They paused after every other play to analyze schemes and routes, delving into the mind of Bill Walsh as he matched the ferocity of his opponent with the grace and fortitude of a chess master.

It was fun. Really fun. It was the first time in a long time that Ryan could remember having fun at this. For so long, football had meant going through the motions. It had meant isolation, monotony, and, on some levels, fear, but here like this he could remember why he loved it. The strategy, the comradery, the feeling of connection he’d felt so long ago. 

And If Ryan could think back far enough, he could remember watching this same game with his father. His hand on his shoulder, his finger pointing to the screen as he explained in a deep, gentle voice how it all worked. Ryan could remember looking up with stars in his eyes as the magic of the game came to life. The memories he'd kept sealed away distant and fuzzy but so very warm. So tinged with melancholy. 

They laughed and cracked jokes, and Ryan was impressed at how smart and well researched Tua was for his age. Even now, as he scrambled for the remote to point out something in the defensive scheme, Ryan watched his eyes sharpen with intensity, and he recognized that competitive spirit. The inner warrior. The leader. The blazing, blistering heat present in so many football players that was the flip side to this kind, well meaning kid. 

"See, this is where Walsh has them because defenses at the time weren't just prepared to play a mixed man zone out of the shotgun. So If you try to cheat the safety over, Montana's just gonna throw over the top."

Ryan hummed in agreement. 

"Yeah, see look," he reached blindly for the remote. 

"There was a play last quarter that-" Just as his fingers had found the remote they were enveloped in a warm dry heat. He looked down to see Tua's hand on top of his as they had clearly reached for the remote at the same time. 

The kid had huge hands, perfect for cradling a football. A solid, wide palm with strong, thick fingers. He could feel the rough calluses on Tua's hand that mimicked the ones on his own, formed from years of holding the ball. Ryan felt his words wither and die in his throat, that same heat blazing forth in his chest. He looked up to see Tua already looking at him, some unreadable emotion in his eyes, and Ryan stared for what he knew was way too long as the game played on in the background, the tinny voices of old football announcers calling the game winning touchdown. 

Finally, the kid just smiled slightly and squeezed his hand once before he let go and turned back to the game with a whoop as the 49ers of old stormed the field after their well deserved win. Ryan smiled and cheered too, curling his hand around the phantom warmth that had been left there. Unable to erase the grin on his face.

\---

“Well anyway, towards the end of my first training camp my hair was getting long, so the linemen jumped me on the way back from practice and buzzed me. I guess they were pissed that I mouthed off to them. Kid, it was terrifying, just a bunch of big guys coming out of the bushes with a shitty electric razor laughing. Kind of like you are now.” The kid was howling with laughter, and Ryan would have felt offended on behalf of his lost hair if he wasn't too busy chuckling himself, and if he wasn’t too busy thinking how adorable Tua’s laughter was. 

It was later now. The game had long since ended, and Ryan could feel the heaviness of exhaustion creeping on the edge of his body. The day he’d spent racked with adrenaline and anxiety was taking its toll, but he was still clinging to this moment. Here in the warmth of his living room, with the aftermath of the lighthearted pleasure of fun making his limbs heavy, he felt lighter than ever. But better than that sensation was having someone to share it with, having someone to amplify the feeling like a sonic boom that echoed throughout his body as they now shared stories back and forth, stories the kid no longer had to coax from him because with Tua, most of Ryan’s guard may as well not exist anymore.

“Man, I’m cool with pretty much anything else, but if they try to cut my hair…” The kid trailed off, running a hand over his curly head.

Ryan laughed. “Don’t worry, the hazing isn’t nearly as bad as it used to be back then. I was mortified, and everyone else sure as hell thought it was funny, but now it's less about mortification and more about making everyone laugh including the person getting hazed. They’ll probably just tease you and make you sing or something. Standard stuff."

Their laughter dissipated into silence. It was raining softly outside making the room feel impossibly cozier. Ryan closed his eyes, letting himself go boneless, savoring the feeling of connection. His eyes were heavy, and distantly, he thought that he could sleep like this, warm and relaxed. 

Then the phone rang. 

Ryan’s eyes shot open on command, and he scrambled for his pocket like one of Pavlov's dogs before he realized that one, the only person he would have cared to hear from was next to him, and two, the ringtone that was sounding now wasn’t his own. Tua, who had also been scrambling for his own device, pulled his phone from his pocket. He stared at the screen, a look of alarm passing over his face. 

“Shit,” he cursed quietly under his breath. Ryan sat up at that. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I told my parents I would call when I got here, but since my phone died, I forgot and- uh excuse me.” He stood up and brought the phone to his ear as he walked away into the adjacent hall. 

“Hey Dad I-” 

Ryan sat listening as well he could to the one-sided conversation, which mostly consisted of silence filled with the inaudible speech of what had to be shouting on the other end, and a bunch of “Yessir”s, “I’m sorry”s, and “It won’t happen again”s.

“Yessir… No, that's- No sir, I don’t… Yessir… Goodnight… I know… No, I know, I’m sorry…. Goodnight Mom. Love you too.” The voice in the hall had grown small by the end and was laced with a weariness that sounded loud in Ryan’s ears.

Ryan was frozen. Stuck to the spot, that warm feeling that had felt so content before, so right, chased away as the quiet of the aftermath pulled through the house like a vacuum, a sharp contrast to the thoughts crashing through Ryan’s head like a train wreck. It happened again. He’d gotten the kid in trouble. Why did he keep doing that? What kind of people yell at a 22 year old for forgetting a phone call? Why couldn’t he hear anything? Did the kid leave? Last time this happened he left? Oh God, was he alright? Why was he still sitting here instead of _doing_ something? He'd gripped the armrest of his couch and made to stand when the kid walked back into the room.

He looked fine from what Ryan could tell, and Ryan sat back down, mild relief running through him.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, they’re fine. I just gotta stop being so forgetful is all.” Tua laughed self-deprecatingly, crossed his arms, and leaned against the doorframe with a smile. Ryan felt something prickle at the back of his neck. He looked fine, but there was an edge of flatness to his voice, a tinge of too bright in his smile. This wasn’t right. Here with this - this distance between them. The barrier of a line that Ryan hadn’t crossed yet, but that his heart was telling him to. Ryan's emotions bounced around in his chest, and he opened his mouth.

“Tua-”

“I think I’m gonna head to bed. I got up pretty early today.” Flat again. Weary. And Ryan closed his mouth, cutting his eyes away. His fingers twitched. He didn’t want to let this go. But…

“Sure thing, kid. Sleep well.”

“Thanks. Night.” Tua waved, turned, and disappeared down the hall. Faintly, Ryan heard his footsteps on the stairs and the closing of a door. Then nothing. 

\---

The early Miami sun bore down from above onto the green expanse of his backyard. The rain from the night before had made the grass slick. Ryan knew that personally from earlier when he had sprinted off his porch only to go ass over teakettle (rookie mistake), ending up with a grass stain the size of texas on his ass and the endless peals of laughter from Tua, who had decided to wait safely on the porch. Needless to say, Ryan thanked whatever nameless deity for cleats. 

After the tense ending to their night before, Ryan had been unsure what he would wake up to, but the kid had bounded down the stairs bright and exuberant as ever, endlessly chattering about his excitement to finally see the Dolphins training facilities and meeting Coach Flores as they sat down over protein shakes. And though his concern from the night before was on the tip of his tongue, Ryan eventually decided to bite it back.

They’d started the day light with some stretches and sprints before getting out the footballs. 

"You gonna miss college?" Ryan cocked his arm and lofted the ball over to the kid starting slow, letting the muscles in his arm and torso loosen up. 

"Yeah, I guess. Why?" Tua caught it with his right hand, rolled his shoulders a little, and fitted the laces to his left hand before throwing it back. 

"I don't know, I just thought… well, college was a big part of my life, and I was kinda sad to leave it behind. Those memories meant a lot to me, and I wasn't even half the starting Quarterback stud that you were." The ball hit Ryan’s hands solid and dead over his chest.

The kid put his hands on his hips and looked off with a hum, clearly considering what he'd said. Ryan waited for him to look back before he threw it again, adding a bit more spin and strength. 

"I guess I… well, I hadn't really thought about it before." The kid caught the ball and let it spin in his hand a little before fitting the laces and throwing it back. 

"I'll miss my teammates for sure, Coach Saban, Coach Sark, and all the other coaches, the staff. Campus was nice, lots of interesting people. And I did like that apartment. Sharing with just my brother was really cool." The ball zipped through the air and struck Ryan’s hands in the same spot. 

"So, you're saying you will miss it," Ryan stated. For fun, he fitted the ball in his left hand and threw. It wobbled dangerously but still managed to land in the correct vicinity to be caught. 

"Yeah but- I mean, that's just how it is, bro. I'm meant to be here. Gotta leave all that behind." The next pass was so tight and strong that it slipped through Ryan's hands. He guessed it was true what they said about a lefty's spiral. 

Tua’s words stuck to him though. At his age, Ryan barely knew where he wanted to lay his head at night, let alone definitively where he was supposed to be in the world. Hell, even now 16 years later, Ryan felt just as lost, constantly testing each new town looking for the place he was meant to be. For Tua to have that kind of certainty seemed, well, impossible, and Ryan wanted to know more. 

He jogged over to where the ball had bounced off a few yards and picked it up. This time he walked it back and placed it directly into Tua's hands. 

"How do you know?" he asked, looking down at the kid as he held the ball. Tua seemed to contemplate for a few seconds, his thumb tracing the Dolphins logo on the side before he looked up, something hardened in his gaze.

"When I was born, my grandfather held me in his arms and said that I would make our family name great. That people would know it across the nation. He spent my entire childhood telling me and anyone that would listen that I was gonna be an NFL Quarterback. I've spent every waking moment trying to live up to that. 

I love Bama, and I like who I was there, and- well, maybe after my injury I wanted to stay, but at some point, you have to understand that your vision, your opinion, your - your desires don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. You have to understand that you can't always have what you want. I mean, I didn't even _want_ to go to Alabama. That was my Dad's decision. I wanted to go to California, USC maybe, stay close to home." His eyes had turned down, and there was a wistful, almost plaintive note to his voice. Then he beamed a smile and barked out a laugh.

"Can you imagine if I hadn't gone to Bama, though? Thank God Dad made me, right?" He cocked his arm back and launched the ball high through the air before trotting off after it. 

Ryan just stared after him, trying to digest what he'd just heard. It made sense now. Where the weariness came from. It wasn't just the endless rehabbing, or the struggles of being a Quarterback, or the discomfort of picking up your whole life and moving, all of which Ryan knew quite well. It wasn't just the pressure of being a first round pick, or his over controlling parents, or being thousands of miles away from a place he still called home. It was also this, a weight so fundamental to him it had been placed on his shoulders the day he was born. A destiny he'd been carrying on his back for his entire life, so much so that everything else, including what he wanted for his own damn self, might as well not even matter. And as Ryan watched him jog back with the ball, this kid that had brought him color and life, this kid that he loved deep down where no one could see, he knew he'd do whatever it took to help ease that burden.

"Hey, Tua?"

"Yeah?" 

"What do you want to do next?"

He slowed up and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Uh, some dropbacks I guess. That good with you?"

Ryan smiled before reaching out to squeeze Tua’s shoulder. 

"More than good."

Ryan knelt to one knee on the ground before the sack of footballs and withdrew one from the mesh.

"You got a cadence?" 

"I uh, haven't really used one since high school." The kid rubbed the back of his neck, clearly and endearingly embarrassed.

"Never too early to practice. It's up to you though." Ryan shot him a small reassuring grin. 

The kid took his stance, his powerful legs shoulder-width apart, his right foot one step back, his large hands out in front. The sun shone down on him, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders, the slight tone of his arms, bringing out the rich warm colors of his skin, and there was that laser focus to his eyes again, blazing forth with the inner warrior. Ryan felt as if he was looking up at a God, some sun Adonis that had swept down into his backyard, impossibly beautiful in his strength. Ryan could feel himself stirring, the pooling of warmth in his gut as arousal fizzed through his body. Then he spoke.

"White 80! Down, Set, Hut!" His voice swept around the backyard like a crashing wave, deep, powerful, and growling but still that hint of beautiful lilt. Ryan felt his mouth go dry, any remaining blood in his body immediately flowing south. He had just enough presence of mind to toss the ball forward. 

The kid grabbed it in his hands and stepped back. His feet moving lightning quick through the steps of his dropback, his head up rotating, eyes working their way through pretend progressions as he reached the apex of his drop before his right foot planted, and Ryan watched in awe as he threw. 

Over his many years in the game, Ryan had seen almost every type of throw imaginable. Some guys were stiff as hell and had really choppy throws. Plant. Shift. Release. He knew some with arms so powerful that they never really had to engage their lower bodies at all. He knew some that were fast and twitchy, the ball leaving their hand before he could even realize it happened. But he'd never seen it like this. 

Tua planted, shifting the weight of his momentum up through his body, stretching, smearing through the stages of his throwing motion, blurred together with such fluidity that Ryan almost imagined he could see the power in his body engaging every muscle, coming up through his calves, through his thick thighs, twisting through his slim hips, and finally rocketing through his arm as his shoulder came forward, then his elbow, his arm extending, those powerful fingers stretching, pushing through the last point of contact, and with that, the ball left rocketing, soaring, through the air in a tight, textbook, left-handed spiral. Or at least Ryan assumed so from the glimpse he saw of it before it left his field of view. Ryan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tua long enough to care. 

He watched with wide eyes as the kid smoothly, gracefully followed through his left leg swinging forward with his hips to catch his momentum, his left arm rippling with tension coming perfectly across his body, his dark eyes pinned to the ball as it completed its trajectory until it finally hit the ground with a thud behind them. Tua stood there like that, chest heaving slightly with the exertion as Ryan gawked from his position on the ground, his shorts now uncomfortably tight. 

"How was that?" Tua asked in his normal voice, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I uh-" Ryan’s voice cracked, and he winced, but _holy shit_ that was hot!

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, kid. If that was your first cadence since high school, I sure couldn't tell," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as wrecked as he felt. He reached down for another football and discreetly adjusted himself in his shorts. 

Tua laughed, shaking out his arm a bit. 

"Nah bro, the throw. How did it look? I think I could have planted a bit better and gotten my hips a little more involved. It's still kinda stiff down there, unfortunately." He shifted his weight, and let his right leg swing like a pendulum at the hip, wincing a little. 

Ryan winced too. It was hard to believe that just half a year ago this same kid had undergone surgery for a broken hip, that they were having to decide if he would ever do something like this again, and Ryan thought about his "destiny," about the eternal weight on his shoulders and wondered what that must have been like. To have everything crash down on you like that just a few months from your ultimate goal. The one thing you'd been fighting for your whole life, the one thing everyone in your family expected you to do nearly snatched away. It couldn't have been easy. But, now Tua was here, taken 5th in the draft, and making seven-step dropbacks look like child's play. Talking about engaging his surgically repaired hip more like he didn't just throw the ball into the middle of Ryan’s fence a good 60 yards away. Ryan looked up at him.

"Tua, you have some of the purest throwing mechanics I've ever seen. I don't think I've seen anyone rookie or vet over the past decade with a cleaner throw. You're really good, kid. It's uh- it's beautiful." He cut his eyes away for just a second, but when he looked back, Tua was staring back at him, his eyes filled with that soft look again.

"You mean that?" 

"God yes. I mean everyone has their throw you know, and there's more than one way to skin a cat, but Tua, your throw… it's about the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. You're incredible."

Ryan's heart pounded, but the kid's small smile and the slight flush to his cheeks were well worth it. 

"I- thanks. That means a lot." 

"You want to go again?" Ryan raised the ball in his hand. 

"Yeah, I think I do." The kid took his stance.

\---

“I thought all of you Alabama boys drove trucks,” Ryan smirked as he climbed into the black jeep, and Tua scoffed as he got in on the other side, scrolling through his phone.

“I never subscribed to that, man. I’m a Quarterback, not a farmer.” He chuckled, put his phone down, and turned the key before steering them down Ryan’s long driveway. 

“Hey, I drive a truck and that doesn’t mean I’m a farmer,” Ryan said slipping on his sunglasses and resting his forearm on the car door. 

“Well bro, with a beard like that you might as well be farmer brown.” Tua laughed, and Ryan gaped at him affronted on behalf of his facial hair.

“Low blow, kid. Low blow.” He shook his head and looked out the window with a small smile on his face regardless. It hadn’t really been a conscious decision to ask to come with the kid, rather when the time came something within Ryan had automatically insisted that he ask to go with him to the Dolphin’s facilities. 

Deep down Ryan knew he was clinging to the time they had left together because he was afraid of it being ripped away suddenly, knew on some level that the thought of being alone in his house again made him want to crawl out of his own skin. Thankfully, Tua didn’t seem to think anything of him coming along and had even appeared grateful when he asked, so Ryan was allowed to seal those feelings away for a while longer.

“Well, what about getting a Quarterback’s car? Like a Camaro or something." 

Tua just hummed and shot him a soft smile.

“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Maybe one day I will.”

Ryan grinned and sat back in his seat as a comfortable silence descended on them. Some lofi mix was playing quietly in the background, and Ryan looked out the window watching the landscape pass. It was strange to not be behind the wheel. 

Hanging out wasn’t really something he’d done since college. Oftentimes, he’d seen his teammates drive off together to some bar or club. Oftentimes, he’d been invited. And every time, he’d turned them down. Excuse after excuse falling out of his smiling mouth, white lie after white lie piling up until eventually, inevitably they just stopped asking, and Ryan could continue to keep himself carefully apart. Now he wondered, as the kid poked his leg and pointed laughing at a crude bumper sticker, if the safety of his isolation had been worth what he’d been missing out on.

\---

Baptist Health was one of the nicer training facilities Ryan had been privy to in his many years. The lobby was modern and completely decked out in aqua and white with orange highlights. The Dolphin’s logo was hung and illuminated proudly over the front desk area. 

“These are some pretty nice facilities,” The kid said, elbowing him gently in the side. Ryan chuckled and batted him away

“You’ve been waiting to make that joke this whole time haven’t you?” Ryan said shaking his head. Tua just shrugged with a grin as they approached the front desk.

“Hey Terry.” Ryan greeted the receptionist with a wave and adjusted his mask.

“We’re here for Coach Flo.”

“Sure thing. Hey there.” She waved to the kid who was approaching the desk. 

“Hey,” He offered his forearm to her over the desk and she tapped hers to his. “How are you, today?”

“Fine. You?” She said tapping a few keys on her keyboard.

“Pretty good. I’m Tua. I’m really looking forward to working with you and all the staff here. I just want to let you know that I really appreciate all the hard work you guys do.”

“Oh well, thank you very much. It’s nice to know we’re thought about.” Her eyes crinkled, and Ryan could tell she was smiling behind her mask, and he could tell Tua was smiling back. 

“Coach Flores said to send you guys up. Have a good day.”

Ryan guided the kid to the elevator, and he tapped the 3rd-floor button before turning to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’re quite the charmer, huh?” 

Tua furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, then laughed. 

“What no, I was just trying to set the tone, I guess. Always respect the people that take care of you. They put in just as much work as us just for us. Gotta respect them.”

Ryan hummed. It was a kind and thoughtful sentiment. Somehow that summed up this guy perfectly.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

\---

Coach Flo was a serious, soft-spoken man, very stoic and very smart. He stood from where he was sitting with two other men in the lobby of the third floor as both Quarterbacks walked over to them.

“Hey guys. Tua, it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Welcome to the team.” Coach offered his forearm, and Tua smiled from behind his mask and tapped his forearm to Flo’s. 

“Same here, Coach. Thanks for having me. It means a lot.” Coach smiled back. 

“You guys are looking really good. How has quarantine been?” 

“Not bad at all, Coach,” Tua said. Then all eyes turned to Ryan, and he stiffened at the attention.

“It’s uh, been better recently,” he finally said. Flores nodded.

“Cool, cool. So Tua, this is Kyle Johnson and Jon Boone our athletic trainers.” They all greeted and tapped forearms. 

“The rest of our medical staff is in the building, so I was thinking these two could go ahead and take you for a quick check before we talk.”

“Absolutely, sounds good.”

Ryan watched them walk off down the hall, watched Tua talk to the two men, body language open and friendly, answering and asking questions. It seemed so easy.

"Fitzy, it's been a while since we've been one on one. Why don't we have a chat?"

Ryan tore his eyes from the hall the kid had left down. He could at least try to not be some codependent freak while he was here in front of his boss, he scolded himself. This was a football thing, he had an image to keep up. He shot Flores a quick, cocky grin, letting an air of relaxation fall over him.

"That sounds lovely, Coach."

Flores' office, much like him, was a bit sparse, almost utilitarian. The color scheme was cool and modern. Very few trinkets sat on the shelves or his desk leaving only his trophies, books, and the rare photograph. His paperwork was stacked neatly on his desk or in file organizers. It was neat, clean, and controlled with no space built-in for nonsense.

“So Ryan, I have to say that I’m surprised to see you here. I was only expecting one of my Quarterbacks today.” Coach Flo cleared a few papers off his desk then steepled his hands. He smiled, but there was a sharper look in his eyes. Ryan steeled himself for a chess match. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in his chair to give the illusion of comfort and nonchalance, before returning the smile.  
  


"Well, when the kid said he had to come, I figured I'd tag along. You know… just to show him around, be a leader and teammate." Flores nodded. 

"So, you two have been hanging out while he's here?"

"Yeah uh, he's actually staying with me."

Coach raised his eyebrows at that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we just figured that it would be the safest option, ya know since he's been quarantining, I've been quarantining. That way the kid didn’t have to worry about getting sick," he said, carefully avoiding any ulterior motives he himself may have had.

"Well, that's really generous of you, Fitzy. I wasn't especially concerned about it, but I think there's always a bit of worry in a coach's mind when you go draft a guy for the guy that's already in that position. Of course, I know you're a professional, but I'm very pleased to hear that you're both getting along.” He smiled again. 

“How long have you guys been talking?" 

Ryan stiffened imperceptibly. 

"Uh, about two months now. Hell, now that I think about it ever since you gave him my number on draft night. Kid texted me midway through the second round, and we've been talking ever since, really." Ryan knew he was red behind his mask. DIstantly, he wondered what had possessed this man to give up his number that night. Not that he wasn’t grateful, but still, that decision had changed his life completely in the last month and a half. 

Coach Flo crossed his arms over his chest in the way he did when he was standing on the sidelines watching a play, that calculating look in his eyes as he stared over his desk at Ryan. 

"So, here's a question for you Fitzy. You've been around long as anyone has. He seems like a good kid. Really talented. And excuse me for assuming anything, but I can tell from the way you guys walked in here that you're close. What's your take on him?

Ryan paused. His take? Many thoughts rushed through his head. Some, he knew would be inappropriate to say to anyone, let alone his boss. He decided to go with the safe option, deflecting from the core of his inquiry. 

“Well, we got out and threw this morning. The kid’s a hell of a passer. The way he throws is extremely, uh, technically proficient.” He replaced ‘technically proficient' with 'hot as hell' in his brain. “He’s accurate, and he’s got some of the cleanest mechanics I’ve ever seen, and that's several months out from a broken hip. I can tell that his injury has made him a bit shaky, maybe he's lost a bit of his confidence, but the baseline is there for sure. We’ve been talking about schemes. He’s really smart, understands a lot of it. Of course, it’s way too early to say, but if I were to use my gut, I think you’ve got something special.”

Flo nodded, then smirked. 

“Well, I kind of knew all that Fitz or else Chris and I wouldn't have taken him 5th. I didn’t mean your take as a Quarterback looking at a Quarterback, I meant as a person.” He laughed, and Ryan let out a few nervous chuckles before he cut his eyes away. 

It was a simple question. It made sense even for a guy like Flores who was trying to turn around a team that had frankly been on the decline. He’d changed the culture and the personnel. He’d done everything he could to control the environment and the volatile athletes and the coaches. To create the perfect nest for his crown jewel of a Quarterback to land in. The only thing he didn’t know yet was what kind of jewel he had, how pure, how valuable. 

Ryan could feel his feelings burbling in his chest softly. How valuable? He almost laughed. What could he say about a guy who had pulled him out of the lowest rut he’d ever been in, who spread joy and comfort like your favorite blanket? How did one sum up into words how special Tua was? It seemed impossible, and Ryan almost didn’t even want to try. He wanted to keep it tucked away and hoarded selfishly. Like his own personal sun. 

Ryan smiled softly, and he did some he hadn't done in a long time. He looked at his football coach and was honest. He let his Quarterback persona drop for just a second. He let his guard down just barely.

“He’s incredible. He’s kind and smart. Surprisingly wise. I-” He cleared his throat. 

“Look, I wasn’t sure about him at first. I was feeling a little bitter, I guess. It never feels good to be replaced, but there’s just something about him, and we started talking and he just-” Ryan swallowed and looked away. “He just made me feel… warm. He’s special. He’s really special. That kid, he’s more than some natural born leader, which he is, but he spreads positivity and life and - and love wherever he goes. He’s… yeah, he’s just really special.” 

The office was quiet as Flo studied him, his gaze still calculating. As the silence wore on as the piece of his bared soul hung in the air, Ryan could feel the heat on his face, tingles of anxiety trickling down through his limbs. Why couldn’t he have just shut up and said a cliché? There was a reason people said the same things over and over. To prevent themselves from making a fool of themselves by gushing about a kid in front of their bosses. But then Flo smiled and nodded. Like he got it somehow. Like he understood.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

\---

The sound system in the gym had never been used. Frankly, Ryan had forgotten that it had one. When they'd returned to the house they'd immediately headed down to the gym so the kid could get at least some of his rehab in. Ryan knew he felt guilty for skipping it the day before. He'd fiddled with some equipment in a cabinet Ryan had long forgotten about, and now it was quietly playing some trap mix with thrumming bass. Ryan sat on the bench doing some curls. In the mirror, he could see the kid doing one of his hip strengthening exercises. Ryan tried not to stare even though the kid's back was to him. He was in a dark tank top and shorts doing some complicated stretch on the ground. He watched his muscles work a drop of sweat slowly find its way down his neck before soaking into the collar of his shirt. Ryan swallowed.

"Ryan?" The kid had turned to look over his shoulder. Ryan grunted. Shit, he hadn't been listening. 

"Uh sorry, what was that?"

He pivoted around and sat cross-legged facing the mirror. He was grinning whatever the Tua equivalent of a cocky grin would be.

"Bro, if you take a picture it'll last longer." He chuckled. Ryan felt his pulse skyrocket. Oh God, could he be more creepy? He began to sputter denials, but the kid just stood up and sat on the bench with him. Ryan froze when he slung his arm around him. His arm and body were incredibly warm, their thighs pressed together on the small bench, and Ryan swore he could smell the endorphins coursing off of him in waves mixed in with the very distinct smell that he’d come to associate with the kid. And Jesus, he was already half hard in his shorts for just the second time today, couldn't he catch a break?

"I can't believe we haven't gotten a picture together yet."

Ryan just stared at the kid as he grinned and took a picture of them in the mirror. He showed him the picture. It was… kind of adorable. The kid looked bright as ever but more than that he looked lighter almost. Less tense than he'd seen in other pictures and certainly less tense than he had last night. And Ryan was embarrassed to see himself leaning into the kid's side and looking at him like he had hung the fucking moon, but the small grin on his face paired with the smile lines around his eyes and the red flush to his face. It was candid. He looked so content. So… grounded.

"Send that to me please"

"Yeah"

They sat like that for a few more moments, and Ryan savored it as the kid attached the picture to a message. He resisted the urge to just bury his face in the kid's neck and press his lips to the warm skin there and-

"So, it's arm day for you, right? You want me to spot you?" The kid looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Spot him? Did he want to lay there with the weights as the kid stood over him in all his golden toned glory while he was already at half mast? Did a Defensive back want a flag?

"Yeah, sure."

\---

Sunglasses? 

Check.

Breezy, colorful, floral tourist shirt? 

Check. 

Spearmint gum chewed obnoxiously? 

Check. 

"So, what's the quintessential business when buying a house?" 

"Hell if I know, kid. I was never good at it."

"Yeah man, you've only moved like seven times."

" _Eight_ times, and when you're a free spirit like me, it's more about the journey than the destination, kid."

"Bro, aren't you supposed to be like my mentor or something?" 

"Yup, and once again, I never claimed to be good at it."

Ryan turned his head to the kid, lowered his sunglasses, and winked before sitting back and resuming his gum chewing.

"And what the hell do you mean "supposed to be?" That was a good nugget. You should write that down."

Ryan smirked, as the kid laughed, slapping the steering wheel of the jeep. The smooth road stretched before them. To his right was a grove of palms, green and fresh, their broad leaves swaying in the breeze the way boats bob in the water. With the window down, he could smell a hint of light, fresh, and distant ocean breeze coursing through the jeep making the hot Miami air just bearable. Tua was tapping his thumbs against the wheel, humming along to whatever song was playing. It was more than peaceful, more than comfortable. 

When Ryan had woken up that morning. He'd felt like he was glowing. There was something quicker in his step when he walked, a pleasant pleasure at the back of his mind that just made him feel alive. Not necessarily like he was young again. When he'd looked in the mirror that morning he'd still had crow's feet next to his eyes, and a hint of grey in his beard (it was really getting long), and his guilt, shame, and pain were still simmering in the back of his mind. But somehow out here in this beautiful day, in the presence of a guy who he not only had completely fallen for but who was also his closest friend, he felt like all of that didn’t matter for once. He felt like he could put on some of the swagger that had been beaten out of him by years of wear and tear and disappointment. Like he was thriving instead of just going through the motions.

"Hey, Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For coming with me. It means a lot that you'd come help me." The kid's voice was stilted, almost nervous, and it sounded off in Ryan’s ears as he looked over to him.

"Tua, of course I would. Look, it's a big decision, but you don't have to worry about it, kid. Hell, you worked hard to get all that money, and this is your first big purchase for yourself. You can relax and enjoy it. You deserve it, kid.” 

He reached over and patted the kid on the shoulder, and he smiled, but now Ryan could see the tension in his face, feel the tightness in his shoulders. Something was off about this, and that seemed obvious, but Ryan didn’t know to point that out, didn’t know yet how to toe that line. 

The gravel popped under the tires as the jeep traveled up the long unpaved driveway. They were about 25 minutes out from the city, past the suburbs in what Ryan would refer to as country. As they stepped out, he could see a brambly treeline in the distance behind a huge tract of land, bumpy, uneven, and overgrown in places as years of examining and playing on turf had trained his eyes to recognize. The house appeared to be a large old farmhouse, painted white, complete with black shutters and a red door. Ryan looked around with mostly confusion. 

“Are you sure you’re not a farmer, kid?” he asked, glancing over to him as he walked around his side of the car.

Tua looked around with something hard in his gaze.

“I’m not.”

A balding blond haired man, who appeared to be the realtor came down off the porch, shoving his phone in his pocket, and approaching them with a wave. He was wearing one of those clear face shields allowing his smile to be visible

“Hello! Mr. Tagovailoa I presume. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, Mr. Bolden same here, um this is my friend Ryan.”

“Of course, Mr. Fitzpatrick! Let me just say upfront that I’m a huge fan. It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

Ryan just smiled awkwardly and waved back to the man.

“So, let me show you guys the house.” 

Mr. Bolden took them inside, moving them from room to room, showing off various aspects of the house, and explaining their different functions. The farmhouse, fortunately, appeared to be more modern than it looked. It seemed to have been renovated at some point in the near past, and though the house was large enough and technically functional enough, it seemed almost… mediocre, uninspired. It was kitschy in a way that wasn’t quirky or cute, the basement was dark and dingy, and the layout was closed off and isolated. The old windows didn’t let in enough light, leaving parts of rooms in shadows. Mostly to Ryan, it seemed the complete opposite of a place that would suit the kid. He would be stifled here. It was completely out of the way and old, and in a world like theirs that was constantly moving, it was a complete non sequitur. 

"I mean really it’s a fantastic deal. Sure, it needs a little work, but those efforts are easily accomplished with the money you’d be saving. And of course, out here in the country you have all the privacy you could want.” Mr. Bolden smiled. His posture was open and friendly, and his demeanor over the entire tour had been nothing short of savvy and knowledgeable, instantly downplaying the negatives of the property he could and easily explaining away the parts that were too blatant to be ignored. He appeared to be the perfect salesman, and though Ryan knew he wasn’t being deliberately malicious, the whole thing smelled of a trap. Forget function, hell, forget it feeling like a house even. This was a cage. 

“So, I know you and your family were showing a lot of interest over the virtual tours. How does the real thing stack up?" Bolden said as he rounded out the tour.

Ryan cut his eyes to the kid, then did a double-take. Tua seemed to have shrunken in on himself. His shoulders were hunched over, his arms crossed over his chest. He shifted on his feet and glanced around at the room with wary eyes. His face was twisted up, and when he cut his eyes up to meet Ryan’s he could see plainly the anxiety floating in them. This - this was wrong. 

“Hey, uh Mr. Bolden, why don’t you give us a second to sort of talk it over.” Ryan let his eyes crinkle jovially and shot the man his best charming quarterback smile.

“Of course, I need to take a few calls, so I’ll be on the porch.” He walked past them, already drawing out his phone. Ryan waited until he heard the door close.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I- it’s fine. I don’t even know why I was hesitating. This place is fine. I just-”

“You hate it don't you?”

“No, no, it’s not that I hate it. It’s just…” Tua sighed, ran a hand through his curly hair, and then sat on the staircase.

"It has enough space for my family. The yard is big enough to train in. It’s far enough out of the way that it’s private. It makes sense financially. It's practical and logical and smart, but… it doesn’t feel right. It never did. I guess I’ve been trying not to think about that all this time because I know what I have to do. I've known since before I even came down here that I have to do this, even though it wasn't really what I wanted. Maybe I thought that when I got here, when I saw it in person it’d feel different. But now that I’m here it still just feels… wrong.” He gave a small huff with a shallow grin and looked off.

Ryan hummed and sat on the step next to him, their shoulders bumping together as their large frames took up the narrow stairway.

“You’re right. This place isn’t very you. So, why buy it?”

The kid opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again with a sigh.

"I mean, what does it matter anyway? It’s just a house.” Tua brought his knees up to his chest and looked away. And like that he looked so very young, and yet so beaten down and weary. Ryan was alarmed to see this other side of him so clearly. A side he knew existed but had always simultaniously felt separate from the sheer brilliance that was Tua. He'd inferred it from text messages and heard it laced between words over the phone and in person, but he'd never seen it so clearly. He'd never seen this vibrant, expansive person so defeated. 

Ryan took a deep breath and took a step over that line.

“It does matter, Tua."

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking back over to him.

"I - I dunno, kid. I guess just that… a house is not a home. Like I said before, I’m not very good at this, and even if I was it's not something I can really tell you how to do, but I do know that when it comes to where you put your head down at night, well, it should mean more to you than you think. When you find the place you’re looking for it should feel right to you. I never did that. I mean this is my 8th house, and I - I've always bought out of necessity. Function. And that's important of course but not nearly as important as how you _feel_ about it. My houses have never been homes, Tua, and I’ve really felt that over my entire life. So, if something inside of you is saying it doesn’t feel right, I think you should listen.”

It was quiet for a moment after that. The kid’s brow was furrowed as he clearly absorbed what Ryan had said. He was tense, almost vibrating. Ryan could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he fought whatever internal battle that was going on in there. As the seconds ticked by, Ryan began to panic. Christ, he really wasn’t good at this whole mentor thing. Not that he’d claimed to be, but still. This was different. This was Tua.

“Hey, I-”

“There was this house on the coast.”

“What?”

“I did some research on my own, and there was this house on the coast near the city. It just… well it reminded me of home.” He was still curled in on himself, but there was a wistful smile on his face now. Ryan smiled himself, feeling a swell of emotions in his chest. Pride? Love? Awe? 

“Let’s go see it then.” He stood up and held out his hand, and the kid took it.

\---

House number two was almost sublime compared to the first one. Mr. Bolden was able to make a few calls and pull a few strings, and after meeting up with another different realtor, they’d driven to a cliffside house just outside the city. The smell of the ocean was heavy in the air carried by the breeze off the coast, and the view of the ocean sparkled like sapphires in the setting sun. To his right, Ryan could see the city where it met the beach, the tall towering spires of buildings gleaming in the light. It was beautiful, almost as nice as the house. It was a modern construction with huge windows, and Ryan was pleased to see that the large backyard was green and well maintained. The inside was beautiful. Open concept and with light colors on the walls. Clean and simple but with a ton of potential. It felt limitless and freeing. It wasn’t perfect, but looking at the kid, he just seemed… well he seemed lighter like he fit here more, but Ryan could still see the anxiety in his eyes. The fear. Like he was some sort of imposter constantly having to look over his shoulder.

The realtors left them in the front room, and Ryan looked out at the beautiful view. The window spanned the entire wall. Tua walked up to him and looked out as well, pressing his hand to the window pane. 

“So, uh what do you think?” 

Ryan looked over to him and smiled gently.

“It’s a wonderful house. You have great taste.”

“Oh, thanks.” The kid smiled back genuinely at that, his cheeks a little red.

“I think - I think you were right. I feel a lot better in this place.” He said that, but he still looked unsteady, caught between two winds. 

“So, what’s wrong then?” The kid tried to wave him off, but Ryan pressed on.

“Look, you know I don’t mean anything by it, kid, but you just seem well, kind of anxious and worried," Ryan said, stepping a bit closer, turning his body towards him, trying to make himself seem open.

Tua crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

“We shouldn’t have come here.”

Ryan furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“How come? You don’t like it?”

“No I really, really do, but…” Tua sighed and took a deep breath.

“You know my Dad was going to come down with me for this, but he couldn’t get off work. He told me to come down here and buy that other house. He worked it all out. The best value for the family and for my money. This place, being here, I love this house. It’s incredible, but I can’t have it.” His voice was definitive, set with conviction, yet so very stressed. The conflict was clearly taking a toll on him.

“But why not?” Ryan asked again. Something wasn't adding up in his head. 

“Besides the fact that it’s over two times my budget?”

Ryan scoffed. 

“Oh come on, kid. You just cut a deal for 30 million dollars with a 19 million dollar signing bonus. Surely you can spare just one of those for your own house.”

“I know, I know.” Tua ground the words out from behind clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut, fingers pressed to his temples. 

“So why can’t you buy this house?”

“Because I need to do what he tells me! Even if it’s not what I want. He’s my father. He knows what’s best.”

And suddenly, Ryan understood. At 22 years old, Tua wasn’t used to making his own decisions, most likely didn’t really know how to make them for himself. Since the very day he was born every major factor about Tua's life had been decided for him. His career, his college, his on-field position, and now his house and his money. 

Sure, you could argue that it had worked. Tua was a multi-millionaire NFL Quarterback expected to have a successful career in one of the most prestigious sports leagues on Earth. He was able-bodied, he was charming, and his character and work ethic were sterling, but at what cost? What did it say that here on the precipice of a huge real-life choice without a clear definitive hand to guide him, he was frozen? What did it say that going outside his father's will for him was so completely unheard of that he seemed almost physically incapable of doing it, let alone actually doing what he himself wanted?

Ryan had seen and read a few articles around the internet about the Tagovailoa family, and he’d heard things about them in his and Tua’s many conversations. There was a clear and obvious cultural divide, and Ryan knew their practices were extremely conservative and stringent. Not that Ryan himself didn’t know those struggles. His own parents had left their own scars on him that he’d had to slowly heal from over the years, and, down where it mattered most Ryan knew there were scars that he’d never healed from. Scars that kept him up at night and continued hurt every day. Scars that had seen every remotely homosexual rendezvous over the years rushed and hushed behind closed doors and even more guarded hearts because it was one thing to work off a little steam with a nice piece of ass from some hick bar, but to actually feel things for another man… (and ok, maybe he wasn’t done unpacking that one). 

And Ryan’s family wasn’t even a part of his life anymore, besides occasionally his brother. Tua’s family was ingrained into every detail, every single little facet of his life and identity. It was well… a lot. The complete opposite extreme to Ryan's life. He'd been going it alone for nearly two decades now. Steering his own ship for better or for worse. Mostly worse, but at least that had been his choice. 

Whereas at every turn and bend in Tua's life, he'd had someone pointing over his shoulder, someone pushing his head down and shoving him down a set path. To Ryan at least it didn't seem particularly healthy. At the very least no healthier than his own desolate isolation. He’d noticed hints of the effects before. He'd noticed them laced in the little blurbs the kid would mention. He'd noticed them in the way the kid spoke of them and how they spoke to him. He'd noticed them in the way Tua spoke about himself.

But somehow, all that felt very distant from the extremely real person standing in front of him now in obvious turmoil, seemingly on the verge of a panic attack.

How could Ryan even go about broaching this topic? It was messy and delicate, morally grey. After all, this was Tua’s family, his culture, it was all he knew. 

Ryan knew that he wasn’t necessarily tactful, and he certainly wasn't qualified. But standing here with Tua, he knew he was going to try.

Ryan reached down and took Tua’s hand in his own, and Ryan swore the kid almost flinched as he looked up at him, wide eyed. Ryan stared right back at him, rolling his words and his feelings around in his brain and heart carefully before he spoke.

“Tua, this is about _you_ . You don't have to settle, kid, and it doesn't really matter what I think or what anyone else thinks for that matter. You’re- you’re not some drone, Tua. You're your own person and you matter. So, what do _you_ want?" Ryan squeezed his hand and pressed on the words as he said them, trying to get the message across, trying to show however imperceptibly that he understood. And they stood like that, the tension bouncing in the air between them as a myriad of emotions crossed Tua’s face.

“So, Mr. Tagovailoa, what do you think?” Bolden and his associate walked in. Both Quarterbacks jumped, and Ryan dropped the kid’s hand quickly. Bolden thankfully either didn’t notice or decided not to comment. 

“So, have we found a winner do you think? If not, there this wonderful beachside property a few miles away that just became available, and-”

“I’ll take it. I want this house.” Tua’s voice was steady as he spoke, and Ryan looked over to him in amazement. He still looked a bit scared, but there was a conviction that hadn’t been there before. Tua nodded to himself and said it again.

“I want this house.”

“Okay, great! That’s good! Mr. Kaysey and I will just take a day or so to get the papers drawn up and the deeds transferred and everything. They can all be signed virtually, so we can finalize this deal online, alright?” Bolden smiled, his eyes gleaming behind his face shield. 

“I- Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great! It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. We’ll be in touch.”

They all traveled out to the porch, the two Quarterbacks waving as the realtors drove away. The kid dug a hand in his pocket and took out his keys. His fingers trembled slightly as he gripped them.

“We’d better get going too, huh?” Tua walked down the driveway, and Ryan stared after him, the retreating form of his silhouette eclipsing the orange rays of the setting sun. 

“Hey, Tua?”

“Yeah?” 

Ryan clambered down the porch.

“I’m proud of you."

The kid stopped and turned around. There was a fragile, almost hopeful expression on his face. 

“Really?” Ryan approached him, his own emotions threatening to bubble over now, pleasantly warm in his chest after what had been a surprisingly hard day. Teetering on the edge of ecstasy, he enveloped Tua in a hug. 

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming with me. Thank you for helping me.”

“Anytime.” 

\---

On the way back to the house, Ryan called for pizza and beer, completely ignoring the kid’s protests because they were celebrating dammit, and some days were just pizza and beer days, football shape be damned. Ryan was happy to see over the course of the drive and their playful bickering over the pizza that Tua had managed to relax a bit, had regained some of his ease. It had ended up being a tense and stressful day, but at least the kid seemed to be bouncing back. 

After generously tipping the delivery driver and signing his Dolphins hat, Ryan carried the warm boxes back to the kitchen and set them on the counter. There was always something magical about fresh pizza that you just couldn't capture anywhere else, something nostalgic sealed away in the fragrant smell. No matter how shitty the pizza was, (and these weren’t, because Ryan had found the perfect hidden gem of a pizza restaurant in the city, and he ordered exclusively from there) something about it always invoked distant pleasantness. 

Tua approached from behind and opened the top box. A thin cloud of steam wafted out and Ryan watched as he judged it.

“Honestly, I could have done without the mushrooms and olives, but I approve of the banana peppers.”

“Kid, you just said in the car that you didn't even like pizza, yet you have such strong opinions on toppings. Something isn’t adding up.” Of course, Ryan hadn’t believed him for one second.

“Bro, I was lying. Who doesn’t like pizza?” He rolled his eyes and shot Ryan a playful smirk. 

“I really do like banana peppers though. They’re like a better pickle.” Which Ryan wrinkled his nose at. Did the kid eat pickles on his pizza? He ignored that train of thought that in favor of shooing the kid’s hands away when he reached for a slice.

“Hold on, before we eat, we should celebrate.” Ryan wandered over to his wine cabinet and selected a bottle of something expensive that he’d forgotten he had. He wasn’t usually a wine drinker, but this occasion seemed to call for it. He poured some for both of them and sat down at the table, gesturing for Tua to sit with him. The kid slid the chair out and sat across from him, picking up the bottle, he whistled.

“Man, I don’t know too much about wine, but this looks expensive. Are you sure you want to waste this one on well, this?” The ‘on me’ went unspoken but reached Ryan’s ears anyway. Tua fingered the rim of his glass, staring down at the dark color of it. He still seemed vulnerable and young, so terribly unsure still. Ryan’s heart ached for him, and once again as he’d been doing pretty much all day, he pushed down his apprehension and leaned forward to lay his hand on top of the one Tua had on the table.

“Tua, you just bought a gorgeous house which you’ll be moving to so you can start your dream career. I can’t think of a better occasion or a more worthy and incredible person to use it on.” Ryan smiled as he said it, and the kid reddened before he turned his hand palm side up under his and gave him another one of those soft smiles that made Ryan’s heart melt. Tua squeezed his hand. 

“Thank you.”

Ryan squeezed back, then raised his glass. They clinked them together and took a drink.

A few bites were all it took to sell the kid on his topping choices, which earned Ryan an apology and first pick of what game board game they played out of the old cardboard box he'd found stuffed in the back of his storage closet. Ryan set life aside in favor of monopoly, and two hours later found them each on their third beer, and Ryan about to tear his beard out as his wheelbarrow landed on the highest valued red property. For the third time. This time, the shiny red hotel the kid had placed there on his last turn seemed to be mocking him along with Tua’s own howling laughter. 

“I mean, you do realize how statistically improbable this is right? This is the third time on this specific property in my last five trips around the board!”

“That’s just the luck of the dice, bro. Looks like you’ll be liquidating some pretty nice facilities over there to make rent huh?” the kid drawled.

“Jesus Christ, shut up!” Ryan tossed a handful of his own houses back in the pile and forked over the paper money. And the kid stifled a wild grin, his face ever so slightly flushed from the alcohol, and giggled. Honest to god giggled at him! It was adorable, but still.

“You are enjoying this way too much,” Ryan said, shaking his head.

The sound of vibrating cut through their dissipating laughter and Ryan didn’t even bother to check his own phone as Tua visibly stiffened his face going carefully blank. He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked down at the screen. He paled, everything jovial fading from his face as he stood up abruptly.

“I’ll be right back. I uh, have to take this,” he muttered before walking out onto the back porch, sliding the door shut behind him. Ryan watched him through the glass, as he leaned against the banister at the edge of the porch. He put the phone to his ear and listened, then spoke some before abruptly closing his mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, mouth sealed in a thin line before turning his back to the door. Ryan watched his jaw move as he spoke off and on. The muscles in his back were tense, the line of his shoulder blades visible through his black shirt as he gripped the rail with the fingers of his left hand. Ryan saw him nod, then he put the phone back in his pocket. 

This time there was no hesitation inside of him. Ryan got up and walked to the door, sliding it open and stepping out into the muggy night air. Tua didn’t react to the noise, he just stood hands on the banister, staring out into the dark night, so still, Ryan almost thought he wasn't breathing. Even from behind Ryan could tell from the tension of his shoulders, the strength of his grip, and the tight set of his jaw that the opposite was true, but he asked anyway. 

“Are you alright?” He approached him, reaching a hand out, drawing it back when the kid stiffened even more if that was possible.

There was a lengthy tension-filled pause before Tua shifted minutely on his feet and finally turned to face him with a blinding grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

And Ryan might have believed him if he didn’t know better. If the pause for hesitation hadn’t been a beat too long; if his voice had been a tick more steady; if his carefree smile had reached his eyes. If he didn’t know himself how both incredibly hard and easy it was to put on a mask. To shove everything painful away inside and keep people at arms distance.

Ryan knew what that had done to him personally, what it had taken from him, and he’d be damned if he was going to let Tua go without him knowing that he wasn’t alone. And for the second time that day, Ryan pulled him close and wrapped him in a hug. 

“I understand if you're not ready to say it, but it’s okay if everything is not okay. And whenever you’re ready, if you need someone, I’m here.” Ryan whispered it into the crown of Tua's head, the words coming from deep inside of him. And at his words, Tua slowly started to degrade in his arms, the manic tension in his body loosening until he was almost sagging against him, bringing his arms up to wrap around Ryan in return, clinging to him almost desperately.

“Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a lot. 
> 
> The last chapter has already been written, and it will be up in a few days once I've had a chance to make some final edits. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading, and please leave me a comment letting me know what you thought along with any criticisms you may have for me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is the final chapter of this fic. I just wanna say this has been such a fun experience. This is only my second ever fanfic, and it's been so fun to be able to get this work out there and to be able to see the response it has gotten. 
> 
> This is by far my favorite chapter. It was so satisfying to write. This one is also pretty long, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Once again, this work has not been beta read, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes.
> 
> See you at the end.

He was greeted by the lingering smells of coffee and an empty kitchen in the morning. The pot of his overpriced coffee machine sat abandoned in the sink, empty save for a few lingering drops that didn't make it into a mug, left behind like gum stuck to the bottom of a trash can. 

Ryan took the pot and brewed another batch of Folgers. His father used to sit and drink a cup of Folgers every morning without fail, and when Ryan had turned 12, he'd made him drink a cup every morning too. A good sturdy brand he'd called it. A brand for men. Proud. Like it wasn't his mother who'd brewed it and set it before him. It was a memory Ryan had long forgotten, but as the coffee percolated in the quiet stillness, and he set the red tub back in the cabinet, he wondered why all these years later he was still dragging that with him.

It was early. Ryan's sock feet made little noise as he walked across the kitchen to the sliding door of the back porch. Outside, the static air had for once lost its muggy quality. It was quiet, still in the way that it was only after a rainfall. It must have happened last night when he was asleep. The light of the early morning shone bright and heavy, overbearing almost where it wasn't eclipsed by shadows. 

Tua sat on an old wooden bench he kept on the porch pushed against the side of the house. It was a purchase he'd made for his house in Buffalo, and it was one of the few possessions Ryan had dragged with him from city to city. He was leaning back in the shade of the porch, his head resting against the siding of the house, eyes closed, his hands cradling a mug in his lap. There were two other empty ones on the table. His shoulders and chest moved in a steady, slow pattern, almost calculated. 

Ryan walked over, set his still steaming mug down on the table, and sat on the bench next to him. Tua didn't move or stir at all, and Ryan would have thought the guy was asleep if he didn’t notice so many details. 

After years of quarterbacking you could read every tell. The subtle flinch of a linebacker about to blitz, the distinct pressure on the knuckles in the grass of a nose guard in his stance, telling you where he was gonna pressure from, the outside step of a cornerback about to blow the coverage on an inside route. 

Ryan could read bodies like a road map. Like they were children's books. Firstly, though the kid's breathing was steady and rhythmic, it wasn't deep like a sleeping person's would be. This was confirmed by the subtle tightening and flexing of his fingers on the ceramic. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday evening, and an air of weariness continued to hang around him like a bad fog. His brow was furrowed slightly, and though he looked tired, insomnia didn't seem likely; the empty pot inside and the three mugs out here suggested that Tua probably didn't want to sleep. 

After a quiet and tense moment on the porch the night before, they’d come back in and finished their game. Then they'd played another, and another, and another, until the wee hours of the night, until Ryan could barely keep his eyes open, his biological clock barking at him that maybe he was too old to be playing Scrabble at 2:00 in the morning. The kid didn’t flag though, didn’t miss a beat. As soon as they had stepped foot inside that kitchen he was all smiles and warmth. Filling in every space with a joke or a jest. Seamless. But that didn't surprise Ryan at all. After years of quarterbacking you could act and conceal just as well as you could tell someone was acting and concealing, and even 16 years younger than him, Tua was better than most. 

But just because you had sensed that something was wrong, just because you had diagnosed the pressure, that didn't always mean you knew what to do. That didn't always mean you could audible the right play. It didn't matter how much you wanted it if you didn't have the experience to do it. After all, if you didn't know yourself how could you beat the enemy? When the blitz was coming, did you check it down or throw the screen? 

Last night, Ryan’s heart had cracked more and more at every falter, every too-bright smile, every glimpse of pain, and as the worry had continued to fester, the words had escaped him. He'd been unable to challenge Tua's facade. Sleep would help, he thought. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow they could wake up fresh and talk over coffee. Tomorrow he could truly be there for Tua. 

It seemed that had been the wrong play. They'd abandoned their game last night in favor of sleep, or at least Ryan had, and it pained him to know that as he’d slept soundly, Tua had been caught up in the storm. 

In the NFL you had to have a short memory. Sometimes you had to stick to your game plan. 

And though he'd missed it the night before, what mattered was that Ryan could be here for him now.

Somehow, Ryan sensed to be quiet. He reached over and laid his hand on the kid's knee gently. At the touch, his eyes slid open, and he turned his head to meet Ryan's gaze. Ryan just squeezed his knee and offered a small grin. 

The kid stared at him, studying with a quiet yet intense calculation. The moment dragged on as Ryan watched the cloud of emotions flicker over Tua's face as he studied him, looking at him and into him, almost like he was searching for something intangible and incorporeal, something that that Ryan couldn't hope to name. And then in the next moment, his face abruptly cleared. That soft smile unfurled on his face like the first rays of the sun kissing the cold earth of a planet that had turned its back, and Ryan _ached_ for him. Ached to hug him and comfort him and kiss him and love him. Ached to say everything that fizzed inside him like a bottle of coke and mentos threatening to pop, held back just barely by the mess it would make, by his guilt and the fear that his ugly feelings would mar this moment, and that he would lose this wonderful person and every good thing that came with him. 

His thoughts quieted when he felt the weight of Tua resting his head on his shoulder. Ryan stiffened, his heart beginning to race, and surely the kid could feel that from where he'd all but curled into Ryan's side. He was about to panic before one of those large hands patted his thigh gently, Ryan's own arm naturally coming to stretch out along the back of the bench and Tua's shoulders as he stared in bewilderment down at the kid who had closed his eyes again now, breathing quiet, still, and deep. 

This feeling. The feeling of complete trust being surrendered to him by the guy he'd come to love though he could never say it, folded here under Ryan's wing, surrendered to Ryan's care so confidently. He felt like the strongest man on Earth. He took a sip of his coffee, and if Ryan's arm fell asleep just 15 minutes later, he ignored it. As a football player, he'd fought through way worse for way less than this.

\---

Ryan reached down and took another football out of the mesh sack. The setting sun shone golden over his backyard, the shadows steadily getting longer as the hours flew by. Ryan was breathing hard, a thick layer of sweat coated his body, his limbs ached pleasantly. They'd been out here throwing at least since 3:00, it was approaching 7:00, and they'd been doing the same thing for over half of that time, but he didn’t want to stop. It was just too damn fun. 

“Hey, just run a go, and make it a long one,” he called over to the kid where he was standing in a wide receiver stance a few yards away.

“How long?” 

“I dunno kid, just long, I’m gonna air it out.” Ryan set his feet, fitting the laces of the ball to his fingers.

“Okay, okay, if you’re sure you still have enough arm strength to throw it that far…” 

Ryan jerked his head around at that just in time to see the large teasing grin on the kid's face. 

That little shit.

“The hell do you mean still have the arm strength?” he asked incredulously. He was 38 not 50 for Christ's sake.

The kid just laughed, and Ryan rolled his shoulder.

“Yeah yeah. Laugh it up, kid. I’ll show you arm strength. Just go!”

Tua took off out of the wide receiver stance, sprinting down the side of his yard near the fence. He wasn’t the most graceful runner, especially just half a year out from hip surgery, but still, watching the muscles in his body work over the course of the last few hours, watching the purity of his throw, the athleticism of his run, and the thin layer of dewy sweat that had misted over him, producing a healthy shimmer to his skin. Ryan was thankful for his compression shorts. 

Ryan followed his trajectory with his eyes, a stray drop of sweat beading down his face into his beard. He’d show him arm strength. He planted his feet, reared back, and threw the ball. It arced high through the air zipping, spinning, spiraling to the spot near the back corner of his fence a good 70ish yards away. It was a perfect ball, and there was no way the kid could outrun it unless he wanted to risk slamming into the fence. Ryan saw the kid’s head turn around before it reached him as the ball and the person and the spot all collided at once, and if everything went correctly, a catch would occur. 

Ryan watched as the ball reached outstretched hands… and went right through them. He gaped at him as Tua shot him a smirk over his shoulder. That. Little. Shit. He’d dropped it on purpose. Ryan saw him laughing now as he picked up the ball on its second bounce, cradling it in his arm before he turned around and started to run back, gaining speed as he did so. Ryan could feel his own playful irritation buzzing at the back of his mind, and he used it to fuel him as he took off running himself. No way he was gonna let the kid past him after pulling that. 

Tua ran towards the opposite side of the fence, and Ryan ran out to intercept him. No doubt the kid was banking on being slightly faster than him and being able to split the rapidly closing gap between Ryan and the fence so he could run it all the way to the other side of the yard, but Ryan had an angle on him, and besides, he was faster than he looked. He had him. He saw the kid’s head turn just slightly to see Ryan bearing down on him, and he pressed harder for the gap. Ryan committed. He. Had. Him. Then, right before they collided, Tua whipped his head to the right, let up, stuck his foot in the ground, and changed directions. Ryan felt his mind go blank, and had he done it a half-second earlier, the kid would have slipped right past him and been gone. But as it was, Ryan got a hand full of his shirt, disrupting his momentum enough to fall on top of him.

Tua was laughing before he hit the ground, curled instinctively around the ball.

“Bro, I _almost_ had you there! I almost had you.”

“No, no, no, I still got you though!” 

“Doesn’t matter, I still nearly shook your soul out of your body.”

“Doesn’t matter since you dropped the damn ball.”

“Well, I did that on purpose, so it doesn’t count.”

“Of course you did, you little shit.” Ryan gave him a small shove, but he felt a huge grin crack over his face, as he got to his feet and helped Tua up. He bounded to his feet a huge smile on his face… before shoving him back. Ryan stumbled but laughed, catching the ball as the kid tossed it back to him."

“That was a hell of a throw, Ryan."

“Thanks. Hey, are you ready to eat?”

“Yeah bro, I could eat.”

\---

The sun had long since set by the time the fire really got going. In the waning daylight, Ryan had struck a match, held it to some old newspapers, and watched them go up in flame, igniting the kindling and slowly working its way up the bigger logs he’d placed on the fire. As the darkness persisted, they’d pulled up chairs to the fire pit, gathering close around the light, speaking in low close voices interspersed with laughter as the fire crackled in front of them. Ryan found his eyes pulled to Tua more than the flickering flames though. He was glowing in the light of the fire as the tongues of flame flashed and danced merrily from the confines of the metal pit, and as Tua spoke and gestured, his laughter spreading around the dark yard, he seemed so relaxed. So incredibly beautiful.

"I'll be right back, I left something inside."

The kid stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Ryan couldn't help but eye the stripe of skin his shirt riding up revealed. God, he was such a creep.

The kid walked inside, and Ryan sunk back in his chair with a sigh, looking up at the starlit sky. The past few days had been nothing short of incredible. Sure, there had been some tense moments, but just their interaction, just having such an incredible person by his side filling up the space, filling up his house, filling up his heart, Ryan had felt more alive in the past few days than he had in 16 years of life, and his heart was heavy knowing that when Tua left tomorrow, it would just go back to how it was before. That emptiness returning. How could he go back to what he had before knowing that this existed? It felt impossible.

He heard the door close, and he craned his head around to see the kid’s silhouette stepping into the light of the fire as he sat back in his chair. In his hands was a ukulele. The small instrument was almost comically small in his large grip as he plucked a few strings adjusting the tuning pegs.

“I thought this would be the perfect time to sing for you. Around the fire and all,” he said quietly grinning up at him, his voice dripping with a smooth quality, the fire glinting in his eyes.

Ryan felt his heart flip in his chest, and he straight up blushed, feeling as if the flames had licked up his face. Sing for him? Was it possible for this guy to be any more charismatic? 

“S-sing for me?”

“Yeah, it’s the least I can do for you letting me stay here.”

“You uh- you don’t have to do that-” Tua cut his eyes to him at that, something firm and insistent in them.

“But I want to. Just relax and listen, Ryan”

He took a breath and hit the first couple of chords. The music unfolding, slow and elaborate as the petals on a flower, and Ryan was transcended away to some close little corner of the world where it was just him, Tua, and the music.

He was more hypnotic than the flames, his fingers moving deftly and masterfully over the frets, his right hand graceful over the strings manipulating every provocative pluck, every sultry strum as the sweet sounds of the instrument rang out clear and sparking, but none of that could have prepared him for the beauty of Tua’s voice. Rich, full, and decadent. Lilting, flowing, and warm. Weaving its way around the fire, soothing and smoothing. Wrapping around him like a warm towel, sinking into his brain like warm syrup. More enrapturing than a siren song bringing him in with its beauty. Reverent as it washed over him full of care and other deeper emotions that stirred deep in Ryan’s chest, kicking up feelings and memories he’d long buried, emotions he couldn’t hope to name as Tua stared up at him from behind the lashes of his eyes soft and full of emotion, shoulders swaying to the beat. It was mesmerizing. It was intimate. World altering. Moving him. Heating him. Like the whisper of warm breath blowing on cold hands.

Ryan could feel his eyes burning with fledgling tears, and he wanted… he wanted… so many things. And here like this, listening not only to the words of Tua's song but how he sang them, how he looked at him, how he poured every ounce of his soul into his performance, sealing everything away in the chords and melody and words and sending them straight to the core of Ryan's being. Ryan felt like he could almost have those things. Like he could have this wonderful person in front of him. 

And as the last strum rang out, delicate and delicious, resonating and reverberating deep through him, bouncing, echoing. Moving. There was something still churning and moving in him. Something that hadn't been there before.

\---

The fire had died down a little, settled into a comfortable blaze as they sat in its heat. The air was filled with the soft strums and the pizzicato plucks of the ukulele in Tua's hands, washing over Ryan like gentle waves on the sand. He was boneless in his chair, looking into the depths of the fire like it held the answers to life, the calm atmosphere a sharp contrast to the burbling, churning feeling that was still echoing inside of his body. He felt like he’d been shoved. Like his entire world view had been altered.

It had been so long since Ryan had let himself be swayed or changed. It had been so long since he was malleable, able to be shaped and formed by someone invested in him. But now after Tua's song, Ryan felt like he was on the edge of a cliff. Like he was a landslide waiting to happen, dripping with potential energy, just one hair's breadth away from kinetic chaos. For the longest time, Ryan had just been well, Ryan. A gunslinger with an air of mystery around his play, showing just enough flashes of brilliance to keep getting himself employed, carefully detached from the rest of society, but despite all the change and instability in his life, he’d remained largely static. A defense mechanism he supposed. Walls were hard to tear down, and staying in your stance was a good way to not get hurt, but now, right here, at this moment, in the aftermath of the music, with this feeling inside of him, this - this catalyst reacting deep within him, for the first time in a long time he _wanted_ to move. _God, he wanted to._ He wanted everything.

He was so lost in his thoughts and the feeling of the movement in his chest that he hadn't even noticed the music had stopped.

“Ryan?”

“Hmm?”

“What has it been like for you? What have all these years been like for you?”

The words came so simple out of Tua's mouth, so cleanly, but they were weighted, heavy with some unknown understanding that Ryan felt down to his core as his mind processed the query, running through the years and years he'd spent like this. The years he'd spent without this. This feeling of acceptance. This feeling of being seen.

Tua was looking at him across the flickering flames of the fire, chin resting in the palm of his hand, the ukulele now silent on the ground, his focus soft, inquisitive, gravitated, like Ryan was the most interesting being on the planet, and he felt the full weight of his gaze, all-encompassing and understanding, grounding. Telling him that there was no way this person could ever overlook or look through him. 

And Ryan believed that.

Ryan believed him.

Tua quietly gave his attention while Ryan gathered his thoughts and his nerves. Finally, he let out a soft exhale of breath.

“I dunno, Tua… it's… I… I think, when you're first coming in, if you can survive and carve out your spot, you can cope pretty well. But everyone’s situation is gonna be different. Stability is something rare in this league, and that first team may not work out. You can move around, hoping to strike gold somewhere. But after a while…” 

He cleared his throat, his voice started to close up. He’d never said all of this out loud, not like this, but here around the fire, in his calm, intimate, dark backyard, with this guy who, in just a few months, had come to mean more to him than hundreds of people in 16 years, he felt safe. Tua felt safe. Like with him he was free from judgment or ridicule. Like for once, he didn't have to pretend or guard or suppress. Like every wall had turned to glass and he could see clearly. And there was still something churning, pushing, bubbling up inside him against all the fear and pain that he’d been holding onto, against everything that had been weighing him down, choking him, all of it feeling like for once it was thin enough to fight through. That the love in his chest was great enough to fight for. And with that freedom, he let it all fly from his mouth to burn in the flames, all the fears and feelings about his personal reality he’d been too afraid to confront. His truth. 

“At least for me, going from team to team, moving to city after city, I started to feel like nothing mattered anymore. Life just felt grey. There was no passion. No spark. It’s hard moving to the next place expecting for it to finally be the end of the road, only to pack it up and move on after shit hits the fan for the billionth time. Especially with nothing and no one behind you.

After a while, you start identifying with it. You forget times like this when you sit with people close to you and experience moments that inspire and rejuvenate you, moments that make all the toil and struggle worth it. You close yourself off and remain at a distance just to save yourself from getting attached because God forbid you give in, God forbid you be weak and human or depend on anyone for one second because that's not allowed. Then you look up one day halfway through your life with no one around you and no passion to show for it. The journeyman. Traveled and experienced but with no home and no one to love.” 

His words hung in the air between them, shockingly raw and bitter even to Ryan's own ears. A voice given to years of wear and tear and hurt so deep and fundamental to him that it couldn’t not be heard. Pillars and walls crumbling, tumbling, exposing, and it was all so scary, but he couldn't stop, because this was his reality, his world that was cracking open, and here on the precipice this - this weightlessness, his tongue wouldn't stop. 

His pause weathered, and Ryan felt Tua's hand come to rest solid on his slumped over back, large and impossibly warm, and at that small added support Ryan steeled himself, digging his fingers into his thighs as more came on, his blank gaze still glued to the flames. 

"You know, I knew you were coming to the Dolphins. I’m 38 years old, I’ve been around the bend enough to know that what I had here was fleeting and temporary, but still, on draft night I remember feeling so tired just thinking about how I was going to have to do it again. Pick up everything and move on, jumpstart that glimmer of hope that had been fading for years now, and I remember thinking that maybe it was a sign I should hang it up. That 16 years was more than enough."

The bitterness from the memory was flowing over his tongue, and Ryan saw Tua stiffen from the corner of his gaze. He averted his eyes and withdrew his hand from Ryan's back, seeming to sort of shrink. 

“Ryan… Ryan, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about- " Ryan felt something in him flip at the guilt he heard laced through those words, and his mind scrambled as he straightened up feeling a bolt of mania run through him, his heart pounding because no that wasn't the point-

"Don't be! I was wrong. Look… I - I was _really_ struggling a few months ago. You said you wanted to know what all of these years have been like for me? Most guys have their wives and kids to go home to. They have parents who love them. They have people to lean on and support them. I’ve never had that. Quarantine? Kid, I’ve spent my entire _career_ quarantined. But you? You were there for me. Hell, I didn’t even _ask_ you to be. You didn’t even _know_ me. I don’t even know if you even knew what you were _doing_ , but you just-”

His chest was heaving, mind racing, the thread of mania still squirming through him. He was rambling now, words flooding out from deep down where he’d shoved everything as they slid over his lips, abstract emotions becoming thoughts becoming words. 

“Tua, I - I thought you were death coming to meet me. I thought you were the end, but you brought me life instead. Since we’ve met, I haven't been able to _think_ of anyone or anything but you. I can’t think of anyone else. I can't think of anyone who has brought more color to my life, who has made me feel for them like no one else I've ever met before, who has made me feel seen and cherished and vibrant again. I can't think of anyone who has made me feel so right, and I know it's wrong Tua, but I love you. I’m in love with you." 

The truth spilled over Ryan’s lips like raw unrefined gems but purer than anything else he'd ever said, and he felt instant relief before instant shame. The tears came then, hot and flowing down his face as his shoulders caved in, and he curled up around his guilt and shame like a dog curling around its bone. He dug his nails into his scalp, emotions washing over him, crashing down on him like tidal waves. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried like this. It had been years. His reward for yet again screwing up the good thing. Ryan felt hands grip his shoulders. He looked up, and the kid had knelt in front of him

"Ryan… it's okay." 

Ryan's eyes, red and puffy, let out a few more tears, and he could feel his face twisting up as the anger and agony surged forward.

"No, it's not, because the truth is that I'm weak! I'm a fraud! I screw everything up. I throw interceptions where I should have thrown touchdowns. I make empty caves where I should have made homes. And right when I'm on the edge of giving everything up, you fall into my lap, everything good in life and somehow giving a rat's ass about me, and what do I do? Screw it up by falling in love with you! Someone a decade and a half younger than me! A 22 year old kid!" He almost shouted it. All his fear and frustration flaring abruptly to the forefront of his mind before the shame and defeat took back over and he ducked his head again with a sob.

He felt a hand come up to cup the side of his face, pulling his head up to meet dark eyes.

“I’m not a kid, Ryan. I’m a 22-year-old man.”

Tua said it with such conviction, and he was staring with that same intense focus from before, that complete understanding in his eyes, that strength that was warmer than his quarterback face, but more weathered than the face of that goofy kid he'd thought he'd seen in those initial pictures just less than two months ago. And staring at him like this, knelt before him in the light of the fire, his silhouette broad and powerful, the steadfast pressure of his hands on Ryan’s face and shoulder, the maturity Ryan could now see in his eyes that had always been there, that he’d fooled himself into not seeing. To hear it put so simply, spelled out for him like words on a wall. 

He was right. 

Younger, malleable, and less jaded? Yes, but Tua was not a child. Kind, thoughtful, and beautiful? Yes, but Tua was not untarnished, not without his own demons that Ryan knew tore at him every day. Not without a weariness that reflected his own, but still so incredibly strong as he wrapped Ryan up in his warm, solid arms, his hand stroking through Ryan's hair sending sparks dancing over his head, effortlessly supporting him. Ryan let himself feel something he'd dared not let himself feel in over a decade of work and isolation. Hope.

"I know enough to know that it's okay." That was whispered, pressed into the skin near his ear where he couldn't possibly miss it or misunderstand. 

"It's okay to have what you want, Ryan. It's okay because I love you too."

Melting. Ryan was melting. Those words and the voice that said them were a gong hit, resonating through his body to the depths of his aching, trepid soul like a soothing balm, vibrating their way up his bones to fizzle and pop their way through every insignificant nerve in his body. And Ryan hugged him back, clung to him tighter because however impossible and too good to be true it might be, it felt too good to second guess. It felt too good to be supported. To be wanted. To be loved. 

"Hey, Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Okay."

And he did, pulled his head away from Ryan's shoulder, dark eyes flashing in the firelight, and pressed his lips to Ryan's. He pulled away just a few seconds later, and Ryan felt a few more tears fall from his eyes as he stared at Tua wide eyed, because he _had_ to be dreaming, it was just too good to be true. But Tua just rubbed his back soothingly and used the thumb of the hand still strung through the hairs at the back of Ryan’s head to wipe the tears away. 

"Jeez, am I that bad of a kisser?" 

He laughed that same warm laugh, his eyes crinkling, and Ryan surged forward to kiss him again cutting him off. Bringing his hands to Tua's face, he deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting, and Tua wrapped a hand in the front of his shirt and pulled him down into the grass on top of him. 

It was exhilarating, electrifying kissing Tua, who kissed with every bit of intensity, every bit of focus and care he’d shown over every interaction, who stole his breath with every press of lips, every brush of his tongue, and caress of his hand through Ryan’s hair, down his face and neck and down his flank and back. Impossibly warm and bright and intense, flashing like a supernova through Ryan’s body, melting away years of isolation and desperation. And he was basking in it, soaking in it, because it had been so long since anyone had _given_ him anything, so long since he'd been allowed to _take_ something, and he wanted _more_. 

His blood was roaring, every nerve ending fizzing frantically, heart pounding, tempo increasing, as the hot flame of arousal burned through his body, and he was overwhelmed with the need to touch, to absorb every detail of the warm body beneath him. The down texture of the fine curls atop Tua’s head sharply contrasted with the shock of rough stubble on his face and neck. Ryan rucked up his shirt grasping, exploring the soft portions of his stomach, up the expanse of his ribs and side to the wiry hair of his firm chest. Incredibly warm and alive under his touch, Tua matched his intensity, working his own hand down Ryan’s lower back to grab a handful of his ass, their hips abruptly coming into alignment sending a bolt of pleasure burning through him. Ryan stopped kissing him just long enough to groan into his mouth, something shifting, lurching in his gut, and it was all happening so fast, and he wanted it, _Christ he wanted it._ But still. 

Ryan rested his weight on his forearms to separate them, still breathing heavily. Tua chased after him before appearing to respect his space. His eyes were blown wide and dark, flickering in the flames of the fire, his face and neck flushed a rich shade of red, hair mussed, and he looked so incredibly beautiful and wild, as he ran a hand gently over Ryan's back.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No, no, I- I just… are you sure?" 

Tua just laughed his same warm chuckle, dragged a hand up between them, and pushed on his outside shoulder. Ryan grunted as he found himself on his back, Tua hovering over him, their legs tangled together.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said before he grabbed Ryan's face in both hands and kissed him achingly tender and deep and there went Ryan's breath again. 

He left a trail of kisses down Ryan's bearded jaw, nipping at the seldom exposed parts of his neck, and the fire roared through his blood again before settling deep in his gut, so hot he couldn’t help but bare his neck and arch against the warm solid body pressed against him. The movement brought their hips together again sending another brilliant spark of pleasure, and they both groaned. 

Ryan hadn't realized until just then how desperately hard he was, and he could feel the returning interest pressing against his thigh, and- 

"Fuck. I want-" He arched again desperately.

Tua just hummed from where his face was pressed to Ryan's neck, so low it almost sounded like a growl reverberating through his chest, shifted his weight, and pressed his thigh between Ryan's legs with a long, powerful roll of his hips. Ryan choked on a gasp, as the delicious friction sent waves of sparks to fizzle at the base of his brain, and he grabbed Tua's hip and rutted up just to feel it again, because it was so goddamn _good_ , and he was already so goddamn _close_ that he didn't even have the presence of mind to be ashamed that they were frotting and grinding on the ground like a couple of teenagers. 

There was no room for shame, only ecstasy, as the next delicious press of friction left him drooling. No room for guilt only love, as Tua whispered something incoherently sweet into his ear and dug his thick fingers reverently through Ryan's hair. No room to feel alone when there was no way he could miss the warm breath on his neck or the pounding of a heart in the chest pressed to his.

Ryan threaded his hand through the short fluffy hair on the back of Tua’s head to guide their mouths back together, swallowing each other’s every gasp and moan as they rocked against one another. Savoring and absorbing every detail of this beautiful, wild, incredible person in his arms. Taking every sensation into his body, as the feedback loop grew in intensity, every addition feeling like a crescendo of pleasure, building, and building- until it peaked. The rush tore through him like a flashbang, coursing through his blood, bubbling up through his chest on the thick ripping moan that left his mouth as he came, going slack-jawed. 

Tua was staring at him in apparent awe, eyes still blown wide, and he surged down and kissed Ryan’s still open mouth deep and filthy. 

"Holy shit. That was hot," he whispered against his lips, rutting against him gently a few more times before he went completely lax. Ryan could still feel his hardness pressed against his thigh, could still feel the desperation thrumming through his body. 

"Fuck. Ryan I-" Ryan shushed him, wrapping an arm around his waist and back and flipping them again. The fire cracked, some of the logs shifting, as Ryan leaned down and kissed his cheek. 

"I gotcha," he rumbled, the words slurred a little, his head still spinning from the intensity of his orgasm. He nuzzled there just a second, before bringing his hand to his mouth and licking a stripe up his palm. Tua stared at him wide eyed, as he worked his hand down between them and into his shorts, taking his cock in a loose grip. Ryan watched his eyes roll back, his hand coming up to grip at Ryan's back, hips rutting up into his fist, as Ryan worked him over with steady long strokes. 

"I gotcha," Ryan whispered it again, and this time he felt Tua's full body shudder as he twisted his wrist, dragging his thumb over the head and that was it. 

" _Holy-_ " Tua choked on a gasp, his hips stuttering as he came, mouth open on a long silent moan, and Ryan stroked him through it, trying to sear every detail of his wrecked, blissed out face to memory. They made eye contact. Ryan ran his thumb reverently over his cheek, as Tua grinned lazy and soft up at him, and Ryan kissed him again chaste before collapsing in the grass next to him, wiping the mess on his hand off in the green blades. 

Their panting breaths filled the air as Ryan began to regain his presence of mind after such an amazing experience. He had so many questions, so many worries, and fears, but somehow to his post-sex addled brain, only one seemed to matter.

"So you're gay?" It came out awkward and almost accusatory, and Ryan cringed because he didn’t mean it that way. 

"Uh yeah, or else I probably wouldn't have just had sex with you." Tua laughed, reaching over to pat Ryan's shoulder. Ryan turned red, and it was fitting that Tua laughed because to Ryan, the whole thing felt like some sort of cosmic joke. 

"Oh…" he said dumbly, and again he cursed himself, because could he not sound like an idiot for once in his life? Tua looked over at him, and Ryan averted his gaze.

"What are you doing all the way over there? Haven't you heard of post-coital cuddling before? I mean jeez bro, get over here." 

Ryan snorted, and that broke the tension. He dragged himself over the foot or so he'd put between them and rested his head on Tua's chest, curling into his side. 

"Sorry. I'm not very good at this part," he said quietly. Tua wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

"How come? You seem pretty good at everything else." 

Ryan sighed, and it was wearier than he meant it to be. The clear night sky sparkled above them, and the dying fire wrapped them with the remaining heat of the coals. Ryan felt so safe here, wrapped in Tua's arms still coming down from their incredible high, so secure and supported in their own little world that he let himself continue to be honest.

"Every time I've ever slept with someone, either they leave right after or I do. Mostly me. I’ve had partners who’ve asked me to stay, who've asked me for more, but I never let that happen. It was always too much of a risk to stick around. What if they recognized me? They could report me to the media and my secret would be out, everything would collapse around me. What if… what if they hurt me, or - or left me? If I left them first then that couldn’t happen. It was always better not to get attached, in the workplace and in my personal life. Keeping my feelings locked away kept me safe." 

Tua reached across his body and took his hand, lacing their fingers together over his own chest.

"But you've had to do it all alone, and that's been really hard on you, hasn't it?" 

It had been hard. More than hard. But to hear someone acknowledge it. The years of keeping his head down, keeping everyone and everything at arms distance. Avoiding love because it meant fear and danger, and worse than that, the fact that even though he'd worked so hard to avoid it, that hadn't kept him from being afraid, that hadn't kept him from hurting. He'd been looking over his shoulder for the better part of 16 years, and it had been _exhausting._ The weight, the anxiety, the paranoia, the isolation, all of it just completely, overwhelmingly exhausting, and he could feel the pressure of it all accumulating in his chest, could feel it welling up like an ocean inside, the corners of his eyes stinging.

"Yeah. Yeah, it really has." His voice broke on the end of it, and he felt more tears leak out of his eyes, and God, he really needed to stop crying damn it. But he couldn't. The fear, the isolation, the sudden relief, the tentative hope, the mind-blowing orgasm, and the incredible love he felt for the man here with him, and, more incredible than all of that, the love he felt back, the pure ecstasy he'd been missing. It was too much. His walls were knocked down. He was vulnerable. 

"It's okay to cry, Ryan. Let it out. I have you." And Ryan began to sob in Tua's arms. Deep, ugly cries he'd kept held away, locked deep inside him. And he was embarrassed and mortified, but Tua didn't leave. He didn't shy away, as Ryan cried into his chest and got his shirt wet. Just held him closer, tighter. Rubbing a soothing hand in long firm strokes over his back. 

\---

Ryan didn't know how long he cried, or how long Tua spent comforting him, but it was long enough that the last flames of the fire had flickered out, leaving just the smoldering, glowing embers, and long enough for every aching neuron in his brain to feel completely wrung out and spent. When he was finally done he felt sluggish and tired. 

"Sorry," Ryan muttered wetly, the last few sniffles working their way through his nose painfully.

"It's cool. I don't really like this shirt anyways."

"No, I meant- Sorry, for putting that all on you. I didn't mean- I didn't mean to burden you with all that, and I completely understand if you want to go-"

"Ryan, I'm not leaving. You don't have to be alone. I'm here. Just let me be here for you right now. Okay?" 

"I…” Ryan swallowed thickly. “Okay…"

"Good." Tua began to card his fingers through Ryan's hair, and he closed his eyes savoring the feeling for a few long moments.

"Come on. Let's get cleaned up," he whispered, patting Ryan’s shoulder gently.

He had a point. Ryan felt gross, almost like he'd been deconstructed and bared raw, and he supposed in a way that was what had happened. His eyes were sore, his face was wet with tears, and he knew his hair was disheveled. Not to mention the mess in his shorts had long cooled to a sticky discomfort.

Tua helped him sit up, his head pounding with the change in altitude. Ryan hissed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, just a tension headache, I think,” Ryan said, pressing his fingers to his temple.

"Wait here."

Tua rose to his feet and strode off, returning a few seconds later with a fist full of tissues and two bottles of water.

"Here, you're probably dehydrated." He knelt and handed him one of the bottles. Ryan took it and diligently drank a little over half, feeling just a bit more human once he was done. His head still hurt, and he still felt flayed open, but there was something tethering about this moment, about Tua who watched him with a soft, steady gaze and grounded him with a gentle hand on his back. And as he took down his next pull of water and thought back to the fire, the words he'd said, the walls he'd knocked down. There had been no explosion. No disaster. No brutal stabbing hurt or loss. Just this man who hadn't left him. Who even now was staying. Who was going so far as to care for him. Ryan swallowed his water.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, do you need to blow your nose?" Tua held out the tissues.

"No. Thank you. For staying." He lifted his eyes from where they were pinned to his lap and gave a slight smile that he hoped conveyed every complicated, messy emotion he was feeling. 

Tua brought his hand to Ryan's face and kissed him brief but warm.

"Of course, I'm not going anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Tua rose to his feet then and held out his hand. Ryan took it and stood up too. The coals hissed as he poured out the rest of the bottle over them. Then they were quiet. Extinguished.

\---

The water in his shower was hot and purifying as it ran through his hair and down his back, washing away the sweat of the day, the ash of the fire, and any lingering strands of grass from his hair. Ryan scrubbed his face, paying extra attention to his beard. There was always something healing about a shower, about the hot water's ability to soothe any ache left by a tough practice or any bruise left behind after a hard hit. Most people in the league saw it as a communal task, but Ryan never had that luxury. He was always careful to shower after most everyone else was done. He was always making excuses to stay longer on the field and get more reps or catching his position coach for a few minutes longer to go over a play he already knew like the back of his hand. And it had always always served him well, helped add to that image of the dedicated quarterback, constantly working and seeking to get the edge, and if he just so happened to make it to the shower after everyone else, that was a bonus. He didn’t need the risk or stress of popping a hard-on while naked with his teammates, and even though they liked to rag on him, liked to call him chicken shit for never partaking in the ritual, he never cared. He could never truly be a part of their world anyway, so what was the point?

Ryan toweled his hair as water from his beard dripped in splotches onto the old, worn Buffalo T-shirt he wore to bed. He glanced at himself in the mirror. His eyes were still red from crying and the steam no doubt, and he was still bone achingly exhausted, but he felt renewed by the water. Like someone had peeled off his ugly outer shell. It was a strange feeling.

He opened the door and stepped out into the cooler air of his room. Tua was sitting cross-legged on the floor against his bed, eyes closed. He had a grey towel draped over his head and shoulders, a few stray wet curls plastered adorably to his forehead. He opened his eyes and smiled as Ryan wandered over and sat on the bed next to him, leaning down to pull on his socks. It was strange having someone in his bedroom who for all intents and purposes was going to stay. Not bad, no, it definitely felt good. He just wasn't used to it. Ryan nudged his shoulder with his knee.

“What’re you doing on the floor?”

“I was stretching. I’m supposed to do hip stretches before bed, and I missed last night. Also I uh, didn’t know which side of the bed you sleep on.” Ryan chuckled at that.

"I don't care either way." 

"Cool, 'cause I'm a right side person." He got to his feet, the towel on his head tumbling to the floor, and shot Ryan a goofy grin that made him crack a smile. Christ, he was beautiful. Ryan reached for him and drew him in to hug at the waist, burying his face into Tua's stomach with a sigh. 

"I'm glad you're staying," Ryan murmured.

"I know. Me too," he said, resting his hands gently on Ryan's back.

It was dark in the room. The sheets were cool on his shower warm skin, and Ryan shivered as the covers were drawn back and Tua climbed in next to him, a warm solid line pressed to his side, and was this what it was like? Was this what it felt like to have someone choose to stay? And once again, Ryan pulled Tua to him and gathered him up in his arms, because he could, and he was allowed. Because it felt so good to be with someone and have someone be with him. It felt so good to not have to curb himself, to be able to indulge in this person that had stayed with him. 

"Hey, Tua?"

"Yeah?"

"You said you loved me,” Ryan stated, and was he remembering that correctly? Did those words really come out of Tua's mouth or was he dreaming when he'd said them. No, he remembered them. He remembered the shape of the words as he’d said them, pressed them into Ryan’s neck and shoulder.

“I do,” Tua confirmed. It was crazy to think about. That this person could hold him in such high regard.

"I- Why? When did that happen?" He couldn't help but ask, and it felt pathetic asking him to explain, but Ryan could feel his heart starting to pound again, his confusion and fear swimming around in his stomach dangerously. Tua shifted and turned his face into Ryan’s chest, his arm stretching across his midsection, his warm hand coming to rest against Ryan's side, and Ryan was sure he could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage. His thumb rubbed arches against the side of his chest.

“I'm not sure when exactly it happened. Feelings like love are hard to pin down exactly to one exact moment. I know I have for a while. But, I think this morning, I knew for sure." Close like this, Ryan could feel the words skating across his collar bone, he could feel where they formed in Tua's mouth and were fueled by his breath. It was mesmerizing.

"I’ve had a lot of expectations put on me my whole life. It's rare for me to meet people that don't automatically see me and expect me to be something. But you never seemed to care what I could do for you, and you never put any sort of pressure on me to do anything I didn't want to do, or be anyone else but myself. You never made me feel like if I wasn't perfect I'd be punished. You never put me down, or tell me what I want is wrong, or tell me to be better. When I'm with you, I feel like you see me for me, and- I didn't know how much I needed that until you. Really Ryan, thank you, for treating me so well, and making me feel like I matter in my own life." There was a pain in his voice as he spoke, the last few words wobbling with emotion, and Ryan was shocked as he listened to his speech, to his perspective of their relationship, and what Ryan had apparently done for him. 

“That sounds like I did the bare minimum,” he confessed.

“No. Not to me. After everything that happened yesterday, I think I had an epiphany on the porch last night. I think… I came to understand a lot of things that have been troubling me. I- I love my family, and I know they love me, but I'm not what they think I am. They don't know that who I am is different from who they want me to be. They just don't know, and maybe on some level they don't care, because I'm just some vessel for their dreams. Something they can mold and shape and project onto, and that was fine. I was _fine_ with that. I was fully prepared to do that for them, to honor them and pack away everything else: my identity, my wants, my desires, because they were scary and - and wrong in the eyes of everyone I cared about. I was fine with doing it for them because I _love_ football and everything they wanted me to do was safe and secure and like that, I knew what and who I was supposed to be, and I didn't have to deal with who I really was. 

But, all that did was make me an angry, messed up person. Sure, I acted like the perfect, happy, obedient son, but the truth was that inside I had no clue who I was, and worse, even if I figured it out, I could never have or be that version of me. And I _knew_ that. And for the longest time, I was okay with that. And even as I got older and started to accept who I was on the inside, for the longest time, I still knew that as my reality. That maybe one day I could be myself and have what I wanted, but it wouldn't be for a long time. Maybe not until after my father died, not until I’d fulfilled every dream placed on me. 

And like I said, for the longest time that was my reality. I tried to ignore who I was for so long, but it got harder and harder because I was so unhappy. Then we started talking and I felt so- so close to you. I felt deep down that you were a kindred spirit. There were times when I knew you could see past all the bullshit. When I'm with you, when we're talking, I feel like I don't have to be anyone but myself. I've never had someone look at me and tell me that what I wanted mattered. I've never had someone look at me and see me before. See me and care about me, care about what I think and feel and my personal happiness. So no, it's not the minimum. You've done so much for me. You're incredible." Ryan listened to his quiet confession. Listened to the complete vulnerability in his voice. He felt the awe of his trust, as Tua whispered his inner soul across Ryan's body. 

"It's all true, Tua. You matter," Ryan whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, his hair still damp and warm.

Tua tightened his arm around Ryan's chest, fingers digging into the spaces between his ribs slightly.

"Thank you. That means a lot." His voice soft and genuine, almost faded where it was close to Ryan's ears but small in the large, dark room. And it was so incredibly intimate. Their closeness physically, mentally, and emotionally was like nothing Ryan has ever felt before, and he could feel Tua's next inhale of breath as he spoke again.

"You said you loved me. When did that happen?" Ryan ran his hand down Tua's back to his flank and up again.

"Probably when I first heard your voice." His own voice was soft and small in the dark room, coming floaty and raspy yet tender out of his chest. 

"I remember thinking it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard, and then we didn't talk for a week, and I was so used to having you around, and I was so worried about you. I was so afraid that I'd finally driven you away, that you'd never talk to me again, and I'd never feel your brilliance and warmth again. I was so relieved when you texted me back. That's when I knew for sure. I'm pretty good at keeping people away and keeping my feelings suppressed and under control, but it was _impossible_ to go back to not caring about you. You have this way of getting past my defense that scared the shit out of me at first, but you always accepted me. It was always easy with you, and you just never seemed to give up on me." He swallowed and pulled Tua closer, working up his nerve to pull out what he knew he had to next because he wanted to be honest. He wanted someone to understand, and if Tua was good at anything, he was somehow good at understanding Ryan

"I told you before about how you basically pulled me out of a rut. But Tua, I’ve been in that rut for over a decade and a half."

He swallowed thickly and pulled on the loose threads of old memories. 

“My parents and I were very close, especially me and my father. I was his oldest son, and he did everything with me. I felt his love all my life, and every time he took me as I was. Thick and Thin. Good and Bad. He came to every game I ever played, and was proud of me if I played well or not. He never pressured me to be great, but I wanted to be for him. I loved him so much. I wanted nothing more than to make him proud."

He could feel his heart beating and he took a deep calming breath.

"I was so happy when I was drafted. It felt like I'd gotten everything I wanted. My dream career and my father's pride. He threw me a party, and I brought my roommate and best friend Micah. I had a huge crush on him, and that night when everything was coming true for me, I wanted more. I wanted to be with him. I got a little too drunk, and I kissed him. He punched me in the face and called me a faggot. Everyone saw. My parents disowned me on the spot. And that was the last time I ever spoke to them." His voice broke and again he could feel his eyes watering. The painful memories surfacing. The arm around his chest tightened.

"Ryan… I'm so sorry that happened to you. I - I can’t imagine what that must have been like." A hand stroked up and down his side, and Ryan relished in the feeling, letting it calm him.

"The next day none of my buddies in town would speak to me. When I went to our apartment, all of my things had been thrown in the dumpster. I lived out of my car for a month until my old boss Red found me and let me crash with him. I've been traveling ever since. Always restless. Always careful to never let anyone too close. Football was an easy distraction because I knew what exactly I was supposed to be and do. You can't be gay and a football player.”

"Is that why you’ve been doing it alone this whole time?" Tua's voice was full of pain and understanding.

“Yeah, when- when my parents abandoned me, it really messed me up. My dad, he was everything to me, and he said horrible things to me that night, and I don’t think I ever got over it. Having people who meant everything to me turn on me so quickly and viscerally because they saw who I really was, it- it hurt so terribly that I don't think I ever fully recovered. So after that, I never let anyone see who I really was, and I never let myself connect fully to anyone until right now, until you because I didn't want to be hurt and abandoned again. I’m like you Tua. I lost myself in football because that was easier than being gay. Then I lost myself in it because I was so afraid of being hurt and abandoned that playing the charming, intelligent quarterback act for team after team after team was easier than making any real connections. Now, I lose myself in it because even though I could never truly let myself be connected to any team I've ever been on, it’s better than being completely alone, no matter how fake it is. Keeping up the lie is better than facing who I am inside. It's better than facing all of everything by myself."

They talked about everything deep into that night.

They talked about their pasts.

Tua told him about the pain of being raised and pressured to be great and restore honor to his family, only to know deep down that fundamentally, he deviated from that vision. 

"I knew very early on that I was gay. I had a crush on the fullback in my peewee team. But I knew even quicker that it was wrong. When I was 9 my Grandfather gave his blessings for the sermons in his church to be given in English instead of Samoan, so that we children could listen to the message. That Sunday, I went to the first sermon with the adults and it was about homosexuality. I remember being so scared. I didn't want to go to hell and burn in fire, but I think even more than that, I was afraid of my father and grandfather. They thought I was the perfect, obedient child and they'd placed all their hopes and dreams on me. I didn't want them to be disappointed or disgusted with me. I didn't want them to see me in the same light as murderers and adulterers. I was supposed to do one thing: bring honor to our name, and I'd already failed."

Ryan told him of the scars of abandonment and betrayal. 

“Micah was my first. He was the second-string tight end. We were roommates for two years, and we were fucking for over half of that time. He was my best friend. We did everything together, and I- I loved him. I wanted us to be together, but he always insisted that he wasn’t gay, that what we had was just casual sex, just bros helping bros and nothing more, but it was never just that to me. At the party, I was trying to explain that to him. I was trying to put my heart out there. I was so young, I didn’t realize that he wasn’t worth my time. When I kissed him in public, he punched me, screamed at me, called me a faggot. After my parents kicked me out, he told everyone on the team and all of my friends. None of them ever spoke to me again. I’m honestly just relieved that they never ratted me out to the media. I was paranoid about that for years. Sometimes, I’d have anxiety attacks on the field. What if one of my old teammates saw me throw the touchdown and decided to call some media outlet on a whim. I figure if it hasn’t happened by now it probably won’t. Hopefully.”

They talk about their presents.

"You said you were able to come to terms with that side of yourself. How?"

“Najee Harris. He's my best friend. Before I came to Bama, deep down I was a really angry person. I had a lot of really messed up feelings inside, but I met him and we hit it off. We went everywhere and did everything together. He's like my brother and just being around him really helped me out. He’s from California, grew up in a city with a progressive mindset. One day, he just sort of mentioned that he liked dudes as well as girls. I was so shocked that he could just say it. And I was such an idiot that I exploded on him. I had a temper back then. I yelled at him. Told him that he was going to burn in hell for being gay. Looking back I was totally just projecting onto him. I was jealous. I was envious of his own acceptance of himself when I had so much twisted turmoil inside.

Najee just looked at me and said, “Well, God made me this way, so I don’t think that’s right, bro.” I was dumbfounded. Somehow, it had just never occurred to me that there was nothing wrong with me, with who I really was. When he said that he changed my whole view on everything. Not just my sexuality, but a lot of other things as well. I think him being so open about who he was helped me to start to at least even consider my own sexuality. I’d been in denial for so many years, but with Najee’s help, I came to accept that about myself. He’s the only other person who knows.”

"You said you keep everyone away. Why did you let me in?"

“I never had a choice, and I never had a chance. People never reach out to me. I think that’s partially by my own design. I’m good at playing quarterback. I know how to be a leader and a good teammate, but I never let myself get attached, I never let myself connect with my teammates because I was afraid of them seeing who I am and leaving or turning on me. I was so caught off guard when you started talking to me, and I don’t know what it is about you but- but you’re just, I dunno, so warm and bright. Every time we talked I couldn’t help but feel comfortable, before I knew it my guard was down, and you were asking me about some obscure game from forever ago, and I’d just feel so - so seen. I guess you could say I got addicted to it. I’m so used to having people overlook me or look through me. They forget about me, they move on from me, but you never did that. You chased me and saw me, and you were just so incredible I couldn’t help but love you.”

Then there's the future.

“I love you, Tua.”

“I love you too, Ryan.” 

He was melting again, eyes stinging again, and damn it, he was not gonna cry again, but that was all he’d wanted for so long, and to have it here like this, plentiful and full and abundant in his arms, in his bed, in his home, he could cry from the sheer impossibility of it all. That somehow after all these years and at his age, here with this man, he’d found it.

Ryan chuckled gently. He guessed even a blind squirrel would eventually find a nut, and he was starving, soaking, consuming, and he wanted more. He wanted to be with Tua. He wanted to sit in the grass and watch him throw footballs. He wanted to hold his hand and kiss his cheek and hug him tight. He wanted to take him to dinner and buy him ridiculously overpriced gifts just because he _could_. He wanted to listen to him talk and laugh and sing and learn everything about him. He wanted to hold him close all day and tell him that he mattered until he got it. He wanted to wrap him in his arms and make love to him with every ounce of care and affection and feeling he deserved.

Ryan opened his mouth, the future on his tongue, but he was interrupted by a light snore. Somehow he’d missed it, but Tua had drifted off. It made sense as he’d seemingly gotten little to no sleep on the porch the night before. Tua breathed deep and steady against his side; Ryan could feel where his fist had curled into his shirt. He stared up at the dark ceiling, his room filled with the noise of their overlapping breath, warmth echoing through his body, his heart full. The future could wait until tomorrow. Ryan drifted off. 

\---

Awareness trickled to him slow and shimmering, the warmth of sleep on his body, the sunlight streaming weakly through his blinds, and he closed his eyes again the memories from the night before slowly fading into his conscious mind. His vulnerability, his confession, the complete and utter baring of his soul. The acceptance of that soul. The love. The hope. The future. Tua.

Ryan's eyes shot open, and he jolted upright, a bolt of panic and dread shooting through him. Where-

“Whoa whoa, calm down. I’m here.” A hand rested on his back, and Ryan turned his head to see Tua sitting upright against the headboard, his phone in his lap. He shot Ryan a quick grin as their eyes met.

“Morning.”

“H-Hey,” Ryan stuttered.

“You didn’t leave,” he said the disbelief clear in his tone.

“Well, I got up to do some stretches, but then I got right back in bed I swear.”

Ryan collapsed back onto the sheets, bringing his hands up to rub down his face.

“You didn’t leave,” he said it again because it had all been real. He hadn't dreamt it. It was all _real_. Ryan felt a hand card through his hair gently. The calluses on the fingertips running over his head, the heat of his palm soaking him in decadence.

“I wouldn't Ryan. Seems like you’re stuck with me.” 

\---

His knife sliced through the strawberry, cutting it into quarters. He heard footsteps thunder down the stairs and through the hall behind him. Tua came up next to him, resting a hand on his lower back, as he cut the last strawberry and divided the pile between the two bowls. 

"Thanks for cooking. It looks good," he said quietly before pressing a quick kiss to Ryan's cheek, and it's so strangely domestic, the two bowls, the casual touching, having someone to share the quiet of his morning with, someone he trusted with himself, someone who'd seen the good and bad and decided to stay. 

They each took their bowls and sat at the table as the comfortable quiet persisted between them. It was so peaceful, but Ryan couldn't quite enjoy it. He was thinking of other things. The man across from him. What he felt for him. What he wanted for him and for them. He was thinking of the future he'd so desperately wanted the night before, but here in the waning morning light, that future wasn't as clear or easy as the darkness had made it seem. After all, shadows had a habit of concealing reality. 

“You’re thinking really loudly." Ryan looked up from his bowl to see Tua looking at him with concern. 

"What is it, Ryan?"

Ryan sighed. As perfect as this morning was, as idealistic and wonderful as this realization had been, as incredible and strong as this person across from him was, he knew what reality would bring. That it was tricky and difficult and - and dangerous.

“Us. I’m thinking about us.” Tua looked away then, his fingers on the table curling in on themselves. He spoke quietly.

"…Do you regret what we did?"

“No! No, of course, I don't," Ryan reached out and grabbed his hand as he rushed to explain his words because that's not what he'd meant at all.

"I could never regret what we did and what you mean to me. I'm so grateful to you. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you, but…" 

“But what?”  
  


But what? There were so many buts. So many fouls and flags and warnings. So many glaring eyes in helmets across the line, just waiting to sink their teeth into them, just barely held back by the fragile image of perfection and secrecy they'd both so carefully cultivated. Under different circumstances but for the same reasons. The stakes were so incredibly high, and as fake as it felt and as much as it hurt to hide, the wolves didn't go away. They just became more vicious. He pursed his lips, trying to put into words the gravity of the situation.

"Tua, I'm over a decade and a half older than you." He finally settled on.

“And? Ryan, I don’t care about your age.”

“I - I know. But the world will. The league will. Our team will. Other teams will. Your parents will. Hell, everyone will probably care about that just as much as the fact we're gay. I love you, and I'm not ashamed of that anymore, but- I mean- Jesus Christ Tua, we’re Quarterbacks in the NFL, how the hell are we supposed to do this?”

He felt like he was nearing hysterics, but it was true. Suddenly, staring up into the scorching glaring sun, the hopes of a future he'd so desperately wanted the night before, every truth that had been right on the tip of his tongue suddenly seemed unobtainable, like the dreams of a naive child. And he felt already beat, daunted by the sheer magnitude of everything that opposed them. 

“Fuck them.” Ryan’s head snapped up at the anger in his tone. He rarely heard Tua curse, and he’d heard him never curse in anger.

“What?” 

Tua's eyes were blazing, but it wasn’t the cool calculation of his warrior quarterback face. This was rage. Hot fiery rage the likes of he had never seen on Tua’s kind, gentle face.

“No honestly. Fuck. Them. I am sick of people telling me what I am supposed to be, who I am supposed to be, and what and who I am supposed to want. Because frankly Ryan, it is none of their fucking business what we have.” He jabbed the table with his finger. The dull thud sending vibrations through the wood, the bowls clattering.

Ryan shook his head. “Tua, I know it's not fair, but-"

“Ryan I want to be with you. I don’t care what anyone else says. I want us to be together because you make me feel like I’m better. You make me feel like it’s okay to be me, you make me feel like just for once in my life it’s okay to have what I want. I want you because you're kind and supportive and incredible, and I love you. I want to be with you. I want to know and take everything about you, and I want you to know and take everything about me." 

“Tua… I want that too. _God_ I - I want that so badly, but you’re about to be a rookie QB in a ruthless, cutthroat league. They don’t care about our weaknesses. They don’t care about our feelings, or our love, or what we want. They will take anything they can to beat you into the ground. Me? I've had 16 years. Who knows, my career might nearly be over. I have nothing left to prove, but you? You have everything in front of you. I don't want linemen taking cheap shots at you, trying to hurt you and take you out while they stand over you and call you a faggot. I don't want you to have to listen to the media and fans and teammates hate you just for existing. I don't want you to have to open yourself up to all that pain and fear because of me when you've already been through and endured so much; when we haven't even been on a proper date yet and you’re not even out to your family yet; when we're both still coming to terms with what it means to be ourselves and what it means for us to be together," he reasoned, something pleading in his tone because for once he didn't want to mess this up, because - because the only thing that would be worse than getting hurt himself, would be having to watch someone he loved get hurt. He spoke again.

"I want to be with you, and - and I'm not saying we can't, but we also need to keep reality in mind. We need to be careful and safe. I think we should take it slow for now. Keep it just between us."

Tua furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the table.

“So, you want to keep it… us… a secret?" 

It was a bitter pill to swallow. Ryan sighed before taking a deep breath.

“If that’s what it takes so that I know that you’re safe and in the best possible place to succeed this year… then yes.”

Tua crossed his arm over his chest and looked away. Ryan could see his jaw working, the cogs in his head turning as he took in everything Ryan had said. Finally, he nodded. 

“You’re right, you’re right, I just… it’s just…” His voice trailed off, and he slumped, over seeming to cave in on himself as the fight left him.

“I know,” Ryan squeezed his hand again, rubbing his thumb over the back of his palm. 

“I know.”

\---

The bright summer morning passed them by from the bench on the back porch. They’d migrated outside, coffee in hand, and sat together talking occasionally, but more often than not letting the silence remain, letting their bodies communicate for them. The soft digging of Tua’s fingers into his leg said to Ryan that he didn’t want to leave, and the arm Ryan had laid across Tua's shoulders said that he didn’t want him to go. There was a subtle melancholy that existed as they sat close to one another, the sun moving across the sky, the time elapsing, fleeting.

But despite all that, despite the fear and pain that wasn’t quite gone and probably never would be, despite the future and the impending football season ever inevitable as always, despite the outside world poised like a predator waiting to crash down on them, Ryan felt that here with this person, no, _his_ person, he could say that now, he felt content with all that. The future was hard. Their reality was difficult and dangerous, but it was worth it for this. It was worth it for him. It was worth it to be able to love him and support him and to be able to be loved and supported back. 

Even now, as Ryan walked Tua to the front door, his bag slung over his shoulder, he was content with that.

“Are you gonna be okay with your father and all?”

Tua shrugged, but there was still some loose anxiety in his eyes as he briefly cut them away.

“I have to face the music sometime. He already yelled at me the night before last, so maybe he’s gotten it out of his system.” Then he chuckled, and this time when their eyes met there was a defiant glint in his eye.

“Besides, there's really nothing he can do about it. Mr. Bolden sent me the papers on my phone this morning. I already bought the house.”

Ryan snorted, then he laughed out loud as the joy washed over him, and before he could think, he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. Tua laughed in his mouth and kissed him back before leaning their foreheads against one another.

“You’re amazing, I’m so proud of you,” Ryan whispered, his eyes flicking back and forth between Tua’s eyes, knowing he had a grin the size of Texas on his face. Tua kissed him again before tightening his hold around him and burying his face into Ryan’s neck. 

“I’ll be moving down in a week or two. You’ve been taking care of me all week. Come over. Let me cook for you. It can be our first proper date.” 

“Deal.”

\---

Ryan waved from his front porch in the high noon sun as the black jeep drove down his driveway, around the corner, and out of sight. Then, he walked back inside and closed the door. He walked through his house out to the back porch and sat on the bench again.

Looking out at the backyard he remembered throwing the ball and having it caught by Tua, he remembered watching him throw, he remembered when they’d chased each other down, tackling each other, laughing and joking. Looking over to the firepit still full of coals, he remembered the acceptance and love and passion he’d felt the night before for the very first time in a long time. Memories now sprinkled everywhere over his house, memories of warmth and comfort and support and love and pleasure and fun, and perhaps this, these memories and the feelings that came with them, were what truly made a house feel like home.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

It was a picture taken from behind the wheel of the jeep of the highway exit ramp clogged with cars.

_Bro, no one told me that city traffic was gonna be this bad._

_You think it’s too late to ask for a trade??_

Ryan snorted. Then grinned a wide, silly grin, as his heart and chest and mind and every corner of his body filled with unified warmth.

_Definitely too late._

_Looks like you're stuck with us._

_Well if you’re involved, I guess I don’t mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was researching for this fic I read "Alone in the Trenches" by Esera Tuaolo. In it, he writes about what it is like to be a gay man in the NFL, and let me just say that his story has to be one of the most powerful and heartbreaking I've ever heard. He writes about how the pressure of having to hide who he was in such a ruthless environment affected him, saying he would have panic attacks on the field, that he could never truly connect to anyone because if they knew the truth about him his own teammates would have conspired to take him out, and that the depression all those feelings caused nearly drove him to suicide. I highly recommend the book if you're interested in learning more about what it's like to be a queer football player.
> 
> Anyway, I hope my writing as a whole didn't come off as too cynical, but, while I was writing, I really tried to think about Esera's story in "Alone in the Trenches" in hopes of portraying what it would be like for these characters to be gay, and how dealing with that secret would affect them both individually and together. I have no idea if I was successful, but I tried. 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this, and hopefully, you enjoyed reading it. 
> 
> I have no idea if literally anyone else besides me is interested in this pairing or this story, but there is already more in the works for this series, so if that interests you, stay tuned for more. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment telling me what you thought, as well as any criticisms you may have for me. I would really love to hear what you have to say about this fic as a whole.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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